Something Of His Own
by Moxy
Summary: Chapter 12 UP! Snape finds a book while on his rounds. What he finds inside could change the way he thinks about someone. Enjoy! Not slash.
1. His Own revised

Disclaimer: Not mine. Please don't sue.  
  
**Something of His Own  
**  
by Moxy  
  
Severus Snape traversed the halls of Hogwarts on his nightly ritual that lead in the direction of Gryffindor tower.  
  
On this particular night Snapes interest was drawn by a very plain looking sketch book laying innocently upon a step not far from the portrait of the pink lady. Severus Snape wasn't foolish enough to think that something that looked innocent actually was, so he poked it once or twice with his wand and mumbled a few words, just to make sure it wouldn't burn his eyes out. After a thorough inspection Snape decided that it was safe and flipped it open to the first page, looking for the owner's name. What he saw made him stop and examine its contents.  
  
He was looking at a very well executed sketch of his own hands. The long slender fingers of his right hand wrapped around a pestle, grinding an unknown substance to powder in the mortar, held by his left hand. The motion was flawless, so real, so life like. Upon examining the sketch more closely he realized that nothing had been missed by the artist, down to the small crescent shaped scar on the back of his left hand. It was absolutely amazing, he stared at the picture for a long moment before noticing the title, written at the bottom center of the page. 'The Masters Hands'. Severus didn't know if he should be flattered or insulted. Obviously someone was not paying attention in class, at least not to the lesson. His vanity won out however, he chose to be flattered.  
  
The next page was a sketch of a pair of amazing eyes. Of course Snape recognized them immediately. How many times had be sat in the Headmasters office, being offered a lemon drop? He was looking at the eyes of Albus Dumbledore that were twinkling like stars on a bright clear winter night, wisdom and humor and regard shinning like beacons in their depths. It was an amazing rendition, down to the tiny crinkles around the eyes that betrayed an unseen smile. The title read, 'Omniscient Soul'. A warm understanding flitted through Severus. He knew exactly what the artist meant. He had felt the same way on numerous occasions. Clearly a great deal of love had gone into the sketch, a warm kind of regard, like a child to his father.  
  
Severus flipped to the next page after he unconsciously sat himself on a cold stone step. The sketch was that of a mouth in a sneer. Again, Snape recognized who was being represented, even though the rest of the boys face was absent. It was clearly Draco Malfoy. The title made Snape laugh, 'The Actor'. Someone knew Draco far to well.  
  
The fourth sketch was that of Hagrid sitting on the steps of his hut playing a flute. The music swirled up around his head making his long beard and hair rustle like it would in a warm, light breeze. Clearly a lot of love and care went into the portrait, every detail of the half giant was captured, down to his pink umbrella propped against a wall. Severus found himself wondering who the artist was, how such love, admiration and friendship could be portrayed through a pencil sketch. The title read, 'The First'. Severus had no idea what that meant. He flipped to the next page and scowled.  
  
A knight, in full armor mounted upon a magnificent steed. The visor on the knight's helmet showing his face. It was the face of Ron Weasley. Severus' scowl deepened. What in idiotic portrayal! Weasley as a knight...Ha! It was a fine sketch though. The horse was up on its hind legs, mane and tail flying. The knight held a sword above his head, his mouth moving in a victory shout. The title read, 'The Courage of Godrick'. Severus frowned. He hardly thought that the Weasley brat would know a thing about courage.  
  
The next sketch caught Snapes attention simply because it took up so little room on the page. While the rest of the sketches filled their pages, this one did not. It was a charcoal drawing of a door under a staircase. Severus did not understand why it caught his attention like it did, except for maybe the feeling of sadness that emanated from it. As he examined the sketch he noticed light coming from under the door, and a shadow moving along behind it. There was someone in the closet! Snape was perplexed. Clearly it was only a closet, a cupboard no bigger than the one he used to store his more sensitive potions. He read the title, 'The Cupboard Under the Stairs'. Snape quirked an eyebrow. He had the overwhelming urge to open the cupboard door and let who ever was inside out. 'It's only a sketch,' he told himself, and yet he couldn't repress the feeling of needing to rescue the person inside. Just as Severus was forcing himself to turn the page he saw the doorknob turn and stopped to watch what would happen next. The door slowly opened, and a small, dark head peeked out. Snapes breath caught in his throat as he recognized the face. 'Potter?' The boy in the sketch seemed to be looking out at him. Then, just as suddenly as the head appeared it disappeared and the cupboard door closed behind him. Severus didn't allow himself to dwell on the thoughts that were beginning to fill his brain. He turned the page and gasped.  
  
A pair of eyes, cold, soul-less, calculating...evil, stared back at him. They didn't blink, they did not move at all and yet they seemed to be boring into his very soul. Severus had seen those eyes more times than he cared to remember, he knew that in reality they blazed red even though in the sketch one couldn't tell. The title read, 'Tom Marvolo Riddle: I Am Lord Voldemort'. Snape knew full well whom this sketchbook belonged to. If he had any doubt, the title confirmed his suspicions. Only Harry Potter would know those eyes so well, or the name that went with them. Dumbledore had told Snape about Potters adventure in the Chamber of Secrets. Not many knew where the name Voldemort had come from and until that moment Snape had been one of them.  
  
He did not linger on the page long, uncomfortable being anywhere in the proximity of the Dark Lord pencil sketch or not. Now that Snape knew whom the owner of the book was he knew he should stop looking at it. The sketches within were very personal, like a visual diary of memories. Severus knew that he was looking at Harry Potters own thoughts and feelings. It was this knowledge that prompted him to turn the page.  
  
He laughed at the next sketch. It was a rough drawing of Hermione Granger sitting at a desk with her hand up in the air, her arm stretched to its highest extent. Her face was beaming with barely contained enthusiasm. It was a rough sketch but the emotion behind it was very clear. The title read, 'Always Curious'. Snape raised his eyebrow at the title. This was not the way he thought of Miss. Granger, know-it-all was a more accurate description to his view.  
  
What little conscious Snape had stabbed at his heart as he turned the page. It was the only colored sketch in the notebook. A boy stood in front of a mirror and reflected in it were two people that Snape recognized. Lily and James Potter. They were smiling at the boy, hands resting affectionately on his shoulders. Potters face reflected back at Snape, a sad and yet content look in his eyes but the most predominate emotion was longing. Severus snapped the book shut and starred at the cover for a long moment. Emotions welled up in him that he believed had long abandoned him and a kind of fear he did not know how to control enveloped him. He dropped the sketchbook on the step where he had found it and raced back through the halls to his rooms.  
  
Only moments after Snape flung himself through his chamber door a boy appeared out of thin air. He had messy black hair, round glasses over bright green eyes and a scar in the shape of a lightening bolt on his forehead. Harry Potter reached down and gingerly retrieved his missing sketchbook. He examined the cover and flipped through the pages. It looked unharmed. He tucked the book under his arm and pulled the invisibility cloak back over himself.  
  
He hoped no one had found it and looked through it. He knew the sketches were good, he spent a lot of time on them, but he didn't want to share them with anyone. They were his and his alone, something know one else knew about, they were something of his own.

TBC...

Please review.


	2. The Dreams

**Something of His Own**  
  
Chapter 2 The Dreams  
  
By Moxy  
  
_Dream_  
  
A small wooden door creaked open and a spider scuttled out from the depths of the cupboard beyond. Severus watched the spider make its way across the spotless floor as though it had all the answers to the universe. When it disappeared under a sideboard he refocused his attention on the cupboard.  
  
There was a bare light bulb swinging forlornly from the low ceiling, a simple gray camp cot with a pair of children's shoes peeking out from beneath it and a pencil sketch drawn on a scrap of newspaper taped to the wall above the bed.  
  
Snape sat down on the cot and stared at the sketch taped to the wall with a bit of electricians tape. It was a picture of a motorcycle drawn in a myriad of crayon colors. Severus examined the picture more closely and was not surprised as the picture began to change. The colors swirled together like a whorl pool, faster and faster until the center expanded out to the edges of the torn page and a moving memory appeared before his eyes.  
  
A man sat upon the motorcycle, a bundle of blankets held securely in his arms. He recognized the man of course, it was Rubius Hagrid. The motorcycle was flying over a city; far below the lights of the city like a million exploding stars. The bundle in Hagrid's arms moved and Severus' view changed, he was now looking down at the bundle in the Game Keepers massive arms, he was staring into the face of a small baby boy, a fresh lightening bolt scar on his forehead. The baby blinked twice and closed his eyelids over large emerald green eyes. Snape saw one large dewy tear roll down the giants' cheek and disappear into his beard.  
  
Snape tore his eyes away from the sketch and was surprised when he felt a small hand rest upon his arm. He looked to his right and there sat a boy no older than eight or nine years of age, a boy he knew as Harry Potter.  
  
"Are you going to stay in my cupboard with me?" A small voice asked with a hopeful look in his eyes.  
  
"There's not room," Severus said in a voice much younger than the one he recognized as his own.  
  
"You can sleep in my bed, I'll sleep on the floor," the boy offered.  
  
At this point Severus noticed that he was looking levelly into the boys' eyes and looked down at himself. He was a child too, no older than Harry.  
  
"There are spiders in here," the young Snape said.  
  
"They won't hurt you," the boy paused, "will you stay?"  
  
Snape was thoughtful, "Yes, I'll stay."  
  
The boy smiled, his eyes lit up like emerald stars and Severus smiled back.  
  
"I'm Severus," he said to the boy.  
  
"I know," the boy called Harry said, "I've been waiting for you."  
  
_End Dream_  
  
The fire had gone out in the grate, Snapes dungeon room was freezing. It was the cold that woke him up. He sat up slowly starring blankly into the darkness for a moment before he stood and walked toward the fireplace. He muttered a few words under his breath and a golden fire sprang up in the grate. A spider scuttled from the cold grate and across the flagstone floor. Snape watched it until it disappeared into a crack in the thick stone wall.  
  
"Potter," was all Snape muttered before he walked back toward his bed and climbed in. He needed to see the rest of the drawings in that sketchbook.  
  
_Dream  
_  
He could feel the trees around him, their ancient souls were palpable in the perfect darkness. Normally he would have felt a slight hint of fear at being alone in the Forbidden Forest at night, instead he only felt the strong undeniable pull of expectation.  
  
Harry Potter turned toward the horizon. There was movement in the distance, the rustle of undergrowth, the occasional snap of a twig. There was someone coming his way at a steady pace. As the footfalls grew closer he heard a voice whisper 'lumos' but it was not the end of a wand that lit up. It was the tall formidable form of Severus Snape.  
  
Snape walked right up to him and stopped, leaning against a tree. "You shouldn't be in the forest alone Harry," he said almost kindly.  
  
"I'm not alone," Harry smiled, "you're here."  
  
"So I am," Snape smiled in response.  
  
Harry turned in a full circle, "Which way now?"  
  
"Forward, the only direction worth moving in," came the echoing reply.  
  
_End Dream  
_  
Harry Potter rolled over in his bed and starred at the fuzzy shapes of his sleeping roommates before he put on his glasses and grabbed his sketch book. He pulled the curtains around his four-poster and began to draw by the light of his wand.  
  
Harry drew for along time, finally examining his finished work. It wasn't his best but it portrayed exactly what he wanted it to. This was one sketch he would not keep.  
  
Without any thought to the fact that he was about to give his most hated professor a priceless of gift, Harry threw his invisibility cloak over his shoulders and headed toward the dungeons. When he arrived at the door Harry knew to be the entrance to Snapes chambers he knelt down and pushed the sketch underneath.  
  
A few hours later as Severus was leaving his rooms he found the sketch laying face down on the floor in front of his door. He turned the paper over with a sense of expectation and was immediately overwhelmed by the emotion portrayed.  
  
Severus saw himself standing with his back against a tree, his shirt open at the collar, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was hanging around his face and resting on his shoulders in a restless manner as though rustling in a light breeze, and his face...he was smiling. He knew he was looking at a possibility, a future moment, not a fanciful dream.  
  
After a long moment he looked for the title he knew he would find at the bottom center of the page. It read, 'Forward'.  
  
"Potter," Snape smiled, "you are an enigma." 


	3. The Astronomy Tower

**Something of His Own  
**  
Chapter 3 The Astronomy Tower  
  
By Moxy  
  
It was raining and most of the school was at Hogsmeade gorging themselves on candy and stocking up on Weasly Wizard Weezes. Harry Potter was not one of them. Instead he was in the astronomy tower sitting in one of the open windows, drawing.  
  
Harry was perfectly content to sketch, it had been weeks since he had the chance. NEWT's were to close for comfort and his last few weeks as a student at Hogwarts were flashing past at an alarming rate. He wanted to savor every last moment he had. Sitting in the tower looking down over the grounds was something he enjoyed doing but hardly had time for anymore.  
  
A soft wind blew in through the window and swirled around the room, picking up dried leaves and rearranging them in messy piles on the floor. Harry watched as a single leaf flitted through the air, spiraling slowly to the ground landing soundlessly on the stone floor. Harry starred at it for a long moment. He could imagine what it felt like, being pushed around by stronger powers, helpless to stop where it might land or where it might go. The closer he came to graduation the more lost and alone he felt. The closer graduation came the more he missed the idea of a solid foundation to support his dreams. In his mind, that foundation was a family.  
  
Harry didn't notice the silent figure standing in the doorway of the tower. Severus Snape had a way of sneaking up on unsuspecting students. In this case it had not been his intention to spy on Potter, he'd just been coming for the view. He'd meant to leave, he really had. The moment he saw the boy he loved to hate sitting in the window with a forlorn sort of expression on his face, he'd meant to walk away. His feet seemed unwilling to move and his heart, that foreign part of himself that he'd given up on so long ago, screamed, demanding attention.  
  
A sympathetic ache clenched his chest and he was forced to speak, though he hid his concern behind his normal harsh tones.  
  
"Potter," Severus said as he stepped into the room, "lost?"  
  
Harry looked up and Snape noticed the precious sketchbook sitting in his lap.  
  
"No sir, I just came for the view."  
  
Snape nodded, "Yes, this tower has one of the best views of Hogwarts grounds. I hardly think the view is the reason it is so popular with students though."  
  
Harry laughed, "I'd have you agree with you sir, most students do not come to the tower to admire the lake at sunset."  
  
It was sunset and the sky was brilliant orange and yellow. The sun looked like it was melting into the horizon, it's warmth spreading beneath it in effulgent waves. Harry took a deep breath and sighed to himself, momentarily forgetting that his Potions professor was in the room.  
  
Snape had stepped forward to get a better look at the view and was standing directly behind Harry.  
  
After a long moment, as the two of them watched the sun sink beyond their vision and Severus spoke.  
  
"I imagine you're looking forward to finally finishing up school and moving on?"  
  
Harry didn't look up at Severus, he continued to scribble away at the page in front of him. Snape watched the movement of the young mans hands as a picture emerged.  
  
"Yes and no," he used his thumb to smudge the outer edge of a perfectly shaped cloud, "I am glad to be graduating but on the other hand, I don't want to leave either."  
  
Snape barely heard Harry's words, he was to engrossed in the movement of pencil against paper. When he did respond it was after a long silence.  
  
"I imagine many of your classmates feel the same way."  
  
Harry shrugged, "Maybe," he was now working on the reflection of the Forbidden forest in the lake. "Everyone has a plan, Ron's going to be starting Auror training, Hermione's going off to university, Neville is staying to apprentice with Professor Sprout, even Malfoy has a plan," Harry grimaced.  
  
"I thought you'd play Quiditch for England," Snape said, still so absorbed in watching Harry that he wasn't guarding his tone of voice. He sounded human.  
  
"Nah, they only want me because I'm Harry Potter, not because I am a good Seeker. They're thinking ticket sales not talent."  
  
Severus had always believed that this was enough for Harry. Clearly he wanted more.  
  
"Fame not good enough for you Potter?" Snape almost sneered. If Snape thought Harry would rise to the bait he was mistaken. Instead Harry looked into Severus' eyes and shrugged, "No, it's not and it never has been."  
  
Well that was a huge revelation.  
  
"I don't like attention Professor, I would have thought you would have figured that out by now."  
  
'I would have if I ever paid attention to you,' Severus thought to himself.  
  
"What about art school?" Severus offered, as he starred down at the brilliantly executed sketch sitting in Harry's lap.  
  
The boy scoffed, "This is just a hobby, it's not like I'm good at it or anything."  
  
Severus was struck dumb. The silence must have been very loud because Harry looked up at his teacher with a concerned look on his face.  
  
Snape looked like someone had just told him Voldemort was his father. A sort of silent agony was slowly appearing on his face.  
  
"What's wrong Professor?" Harry had the sneaking suspicion that Snape realized he was being nice to Harry and had had heart failure.  
  
The Potions professor starred down at Harry for a long moment before speaking. "Potions wasn't my first love, it was sculpture. I thought I didn't have the talent. I thought that I was meant for other things...potions mainly. Everyone had expectations of me. I allowed those expectations to rule my life. It was my father's expectations that I followed into becoming a Death Eater and my mother's expectations into teaching and Potions. Now I am nearly forty years old and I wish nearly every day of my life that I had run away to Italy and joined an artist colony." He smiled a very painful smile.  
  
"For you I can only imagine it would be worse. Worse not only because you don't know what you want but because you have the entire wizarding world expecting things of you."  
  
Something inside of Harry cracked open, and a feeling of purpose came gushing out. How was it that this man, Severus Snape, who hated him almost as much as Voldemort did, could put into words exactly Harry he felt?  
  
"Everyone has responsibilities, whether we want them or not. Your responsibilities are bigger than most people but don't let a little thing like defeating the darkest wizard in 100 years ruin your dreams. If you let that happen then Voldemort wins on a very deep level."  
  
Harry didn't know it but there were tears running down his cheeks. Snape looked down at his pupil and was surprised at the emotion he saw on Harry's face.  
  
"Don't you think it's funny Professor, that you of all people, you are the one who understands me best?"  
  
Yet again Snape was struck dumb. Twice in one day after a lifetime of always having a scathing comeback for every occasion is more that one snarky man can take.  
  
"I hardly think..."  
  
"No professor, I've been talking to my friends, Dumbledore, Sirius...everyone who loves and cares for me, trying to sort out my feelings, and you are the first one to say something useful." Harry looked thoughtful for a long moment, "When I really think about it, of course it was you. It's always been you with the reality checks." Harry laughed, "You actually don't hate me do you?"  
  
Severus was becoming uncomfortable, "That is beside the point Mr. Potter."  
  
"If I didn't think you'd hex me I'd hug you right now!" Harry grinned from ear to ear. Snape look frightened at the mere mention of physical contact.  
  
"So, Professor, what do I do now? Which direction do I head in?"  
  
Snape quirked an eyebrow, "Forward Mr. Potter, the only direction worth moving in." He said this as though it was the most obvious answer in the world.  
  
Harry smiled, then he ripped out the sketch he had just finished and handed it to Severus. "Thank you Professor."  
  
Potter was gone from the tower in a three long strides and Severus was left to think about what had just happened.  
  
After awhile Snape looked down at the picture in his hands. It was the view of the lake and forest from the tower in which he stood. The forest was dark and forbidding, the lake reflected the setting sun and an aura of tranquility permeated the scene. As he examined it more closely his eye was drawn to the center of the sketch where Potter sat on the grass next to the lake drawing in a notebook. Standing behind him, looking over his shoulder stood Severus. The title at the bottom center of the page read, "The Sculptor of Minds". 


	4. The Room of Requirement

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I want to, I enjoy playing in his world is all.  
  
A/N Sorry it's been so long since I updated. I have been stuck to tell you the truth. I didn't know where to take this story. Because this started out as a one shot I had no plot line laid out for it. I am now making it up as I go along. Anyway...this chapter is the beginning of a new focus. It's actually taking on the characteristics of a story and not an art piece. I hope you're not disappointed. Enjoy and please do tell me what you think.  
  
WARNING: SPOILERS FOR BOOK 5.  
  
Something of His Own  
  
Chapter 4  
  
It was a comfortable living space, filled with masculine furniture and shadowy lighting. There were secluded spots for reading and thinking, large vibrant paintings and cold stone statues filled the walls and corners. It was beautiful and complex and mysterious, just like the man who lived there.   
  
Severus Snape was leaning over his coffee table putting the finishing touches on a newly matted and framed piece of art. It would hang next to the first, on a recently emptied wall, now dedicated to a new artist, Harry Potter. He hung the framed picture and stepped back to examine it. Looking at his new acquisition he realized that the sketch itself was beautiful but the title made it even more so, each title was a clue to the complex emotions of the boy who lived. Snape had the overwhelming desire to flip to the end of the book to find out how all the clues fit together. A little voice in the back of his brain told him that getting to the end was half the fun.  
  
Feeling anything other than contempt or anger was new to Severus. He felt very overwhelmed and yet content to be so. It was an odd moment of personal revelation when he realized that he'd been looking for a reason to change the way he looked at the world. How very odd to find it in the form of Harry Potter, for it was his view of the world that Severus saw when he looked at Harry's sketches. A world, that for all intents and purposes should have been as bleak as his own. Instead he found hope, friendship and love. How remarkable to find all of those emotions sketched in pencil and ink. This was the aspect of art that intrigued Snape the most. The ability to capture emotion.   
  
As he stood examining the sketches Severus noticed for the first time that they were not signed. He flipped through his mental file of the night he shamelessly snooped in Potter's sketchbook. None of them were signed and he wondered why. Gingerly, he removed both framed sketches from the wall and took them over to his desk. He pulled out his quill and wrote on the back of each frame, 'Harry Potter, artist.'   
  
***  
  
Professor Snapes words to Harry had motivated him, pushed him forward, made him want to spend his days and nights sketching madly away in his precious book. He spent hours hidden under the covers of his bed, drawing by the light of his wand. His hopes were high, but time after time he starred at his finished work in disgust. By the time he gave up and fell into an exhausted sleep there was a pile of crumpled drawings covering him like a blanket.   
  
Harry awoke the next morning with smudges of charcoal all over his sheets, face and hands. Without realizing he was covered in the black dust he rubbed his tired eyes, effectively giving himself two black eyes.  
  
Ron entered the dorm room just as Harry was climbing out of bed and laughed outright.  
  
"Harry man, what have you been doing?"  
  
Harry looked confused.  
  
"You have black smudges all over face," Ron looked down at Harry's hands, "and hands..."  
  
Harry looked blankly at his palms but did not respond, still half asleep.  
  
Ron tossed his wet towel onto the floor and walked over toward Harry.   
  
"You aren't going to leave that there are you?" Harry asked, starring at the towel with a frown. Ron was such a pig.  
  
"Huh?"   
  
"Never mind," Harry stretched, "what time is it?"  
  
Ron looked over at his bedside clock and panicked, "It's nearly eight, we have Double Potions in fifteen minutes!"  
  
Harry ran toward his trunk, flipped the lid open and pulled out the first school robe he laid his fingers on. Unfortunately it was a robe from his third year and was several inches to short but he didn't notice, in to much of a hurry to get to class on time.   
  
They raced out of the room, bags flung over their shoulders, the pile of discarded sketches forgotten.  
  
****  
  
Harry and Ron skidded into the Potions classroom two minutes late. Ron made it to his desk without being noticed but Harry wasn't so lucky.  
  
"What happened to you Potter?" snarled Draco Malfoy, "Think your to good to bathe now?"  
  
Harry hastily began scrubbing his face with the sleeve of his too short robes. The Slytherin's snickered.  
  
"That's quite enough," said Snape from behind his desk, "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, have a seat and don't be late again," he turned his attention toward the class, "now turn to page 475 of your texts."  
  
The Gryffindor's had a lot to say about Potions that day. Most of them couldn't believe that Harry and Ron got away with being late. Snape hadn't even taken off points. Hermione made a point of reprimanding them for their lateness but as usual both boys barely heard a word she said.  
  
"Snape was in a really good mood, well, a good mood for Snape anyway," said Neville as he trotted along next to Harry.  
  
"Yeah," said Ron, "I wonder why?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at him, "Like he needs a reason Ron."  
  
"'Mione, we're talking about Snape here, I swear I almost saw him smile when Dean cracked that joke about Umbridge."  
  
Hermione humphed and Harry kept his thoughts to himself.  
  
"Lets get to Herbology," Harry said, "I don't want to be late twice in one day."  
  
***  
  
When Harry raced to his rooms to collect his broom before Quiditch practice he found Hermione sitting in the middle of his bed. She was sitting at an odd angle, her head tilted prettily as she stared at something sitting on his pillow. For a moment he didn't know what it was, but then he took a step closer and saw exactly what had captured her attention.  
  
Harry's stomach lurched as he realized it was his sketchbook, every sheet of paper that he had crumpled up was smoothed out and laying in a neat pile on top of it. He knew instantly that Dobby was the guilty party.   
  
"Herm?" Harry called, taking a step closer toward the bed. She looked up guiltily and Harry noticed her eyes were moist with unshed tears.  
  
"What's the matter?" he asked as he laid a comforting hand on her arm.  
  
A single self deprecating laugh escaped her lips and then she smiled meekly up at him. "I just happened to see them, I didn't..."  
  
"I know Herm," Harry said as he brought her into a hug.  
  
"Did you draw them Harry?" she muffled into his shoulder.  
  
Harry looked down at her feeling very confused. On one hand he wanted to tell his best friend everything, on the other hand he wanted to keep this as much to himself as he could.  
  
"I..." he trailed off.  
  
"It's amazing Harry, it's like looking into your heart." Hermione was now actively wiping away falling tears.  
  
Harry peered over her shoulder. It really wasn't that good. First Snape and now Hermione! He couldn't see what was so great about his sketches, they were awful. For as long as he had been drawing he had fought with, what he felt, was the inability to portray his feelings in their entirety. He felt his sketches were mediocre at best.  
  
"Thanks Herm," Harry said softly.  
  
He walked around the bed to retrieve his sketchbook, and got a better look at the drawing he'd been working on when he fell asleep the night before.  
  
He'd never drawn anything like it before, and had been very dissatisfied with it. Fresh eyes gave him a new perspective, it wasn't that bad really. The silhouette of a man sitting in a window legs bent and chin resting on his knees. Everything was dark, the starry sky beyond the window, the man's cloak, the walls--everything but the man's face which was the gleaming white of untouched paper.  
  
"Are you going to finish it?" Hermione asked from across the bed.  
  
"It is finished," Harry responded without thought and suddenly knew it was true. Not everything had to have an end, a completion. Some things went on forever, somethings didn't need to be seen to be understood. 'Like love for instance,' Harry thought to himself as he continued to stare at the faceless man.  
  
"Who is he?" Hermione asked.  
  
Harry shrugged, "I don't know," and he really didn't.  
  
"Let's go down to dinner, all right?" Hermione pulled Harry away from his bed and away from his thoughts.   
  
They made their way through the corridors in silent contemplation. "Harry," Hermione said breaking the silence.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I won't tell anyone about your sketches, I uh..." she paused for a moment, "I can tell you want to keep it a secret."  
  
Harry looked over at her and smiled. "Thanks Herm."  
  
"Harry?" Hermione spoke again a moment later.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"One day, I'd really like to see them."  
  
"One day." It was a promise.  
  
Dinner was fairly uneventful, until everyone began leaving for their common rooms. Harry and Ron were talking enthusiastically about last years Quiditch World Cup which they had both attended in Brazil.  
  
"Mr. Potter," said a deep baritone voice that vibrated through Harry's skull.  
  
Harry looked up at Snape, "Yes sir?"  
  
"Would you come with me please," It wasn't a request.  
  
Harry stood and followed Snape out of the hall looking back at Ron with a quizical look on his face.  
  
He followed his Potions professor through the halls, recognizing that they were headed toward the third floor corridor. "Er, professor, where are we going?" Harry had expected Snape to snap at him for asking questions. It would have been his usual response after all. Instead he turned his head briefly and said, "I have something to show you."  
  
It was after they walked the same corridor four times that Harry had some inkling as to what they were doing.   
  
Finally Snape stopped in front of a painting. It was so dingy Harry couldn't tell what it was a painting of.  
  
"Forte," said Snape and the picture slid aside to reveal a very familiar door.  
  
"This is the room of Requirement!" said Harry, he'd been looking for it since he returned to Hogwarts his sixth year.  
  
"Very good Potter," Snape opened the door and walked in. Harry gapped. He was standing in the middle of a studio, fully equipped with every necessity a budding artist could want.  
  
"I moved it after that fiasco in your fifth year. Every one knew where it was which is highly inconvenient for a secret room," said Snape.  
  
"You moved it?" Harry said dumbly.  
  
Snape rose one dark perfect eyebrow at him, "Who do you think created it Mr. Potter?"  
  
Harry gapped like a goldfish. "You did?"  
  
Snape nodded and walked over to the nearest window. It reached from floor to ceiling, rays of the setting sun filtering through the glass in mellow shafts. The ebony of Snape's hair reflected like the facets of a diamond and Harry starred at the picture, wishing he could capture it on paper.  
  
"What are you starring at Mr. Potter?" Snape asked in a casual tone.  
  
"You," said Harry, so lost in the picture that the truth came out before he could revise the answer. He was completely mortified with himself, his face was burning crimson.  
  
Severus had nothing to say to this. He simply looked out the window, pretending (quite successfully) to not be surprised by such a forthright answer.  
  
After a moment Harry got the nerve up to speak, "Er...why did you bring me here sir?"  
  
Snape turned back toward Harry looking serious. "I know you only have two weeks left at Hogwarts Harry," he paused, "I wish I had known of your talent long before this, but there's no changing that now. I want you to use this room, as much as you can before you leave."  
  
Harry looked around the room again, totally in awe of his surroundings. He felt like he did the first time he stepped foot through the archway into Diagon Ally. It was a dream come true, a dream that Professor Snape had given him--Snape, his hated Potions professor.  
  
"Sir," said Harry, awe clearly evident in his voice, "I...thank you!"   
  
Again Harry had surprised Severus. He hadn't expected such an enthusiastic response. A warmth spread through him at being able to give Harry something so small. For the first time in his life he felt the joy of giving something away, without the expectation of something in return. It suddenly occurred to Severus that Harry Potter was giving him a lot of 'firsts'.   
  
Severus' warm fuzzy feeling was suddenly replaced with one of panic as Harry flung himself at his Potions professor in a fierce hug.   
  
"Thank you sir!" Harry said as he backed away, seeing for the first time the look of complete horror on the man's face.  
  
"It's nothing, nothing at all Potter...er..." and he bolted toward the door.  
  
Harry watched him go feeling very foolish. The man would probably be sprinting toward his shower now, trying to remove any and all essence of Harry from his crisply pressed robes.  
  
A long sigh escaped him and he starred out the window and then gasped at the unexpected site. The view was not of Scotland but of a rolling country side dotted with vineyards. Harry suspected it was Italy but couldn't be sure since he'd never been there.   
  
'Amazing' thought Harry, 'Snape even enchanted the view.'  
  
Harry spent the rest of the evening standing at an easel over looking the vineyards, trying his hand at oil paints and wondering if Snape would ever speak to him again. Under normal circumstances that would be a welcome relief, for Harry however he felt like he had been punched in the gut.  
  
Severus spent the rest of his evening starring at himself in the mirror wondering how long it had been since someone had touched him and why anyone would want to. He woke the next day with a new determination.  
  
His first year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class nearly fainted when they saw how clean his hair was.  
  
TBC...  
  
PLEASE REVIEW 


	5. She said yes

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter, I simply enjoy playing in his universe.  
  
A/N Sorry this has been so long in coming. Don't hurt me. I finally have the whole story planned out so the chapters will be quicker in posting--I hope. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed. They truly spur me on. I still need a beta. If you're interested please email me! For all of you who have mentioned art work I would love to see it! Please send it to me.   
  
This chapter is dedicated to Toy Story Girl. K/S forever.  
  
Something of His Own  
  
By Moxy  
  
Chapter 5 "She said yes"  
  
It was one of those evenings that calls to the soul, whispering it's way into ones consciousness, carving itself into ever lasting memory. Harry had never felt it before, the feeling of complete contentment, as though the entire world was at peace. He was standing at the edge of the lake, the grounds littered with his fellow students. Did they all feel the same way he did? Looking around he decided that he was not the only one. From the looks of things even Draco Malfoy was feeling happy, if the smile on his normally sour face was any indication.  
  
There was a breeze, soft and light, blowing carelessly at his robes and mussing his hair. Hermione and Ron were walking together across the lake, completely engrossed in one another. Harry wondered if tonight was the night Ron would finally get the courage to ask her what he'd been wanting to ask her for over a year. Would his grandmothers wedding ring be seeing the light of day anytime soon? Harry spent a moment imagining a half a dozen little Hermione's running around Hogwarts a decade from now. If Snape was still here he'd surely retire when faced with Granger-Weasley's running wild through the school. The thought made Harry laugh.  
  
"Something humorous Mr. Potter?"   
  
'Speak of the devil', thought Harry, as he turned around to face his potions professor.  
  
"Good evening professor," Harry smiled and nodded toward the other side of the lake where Ron was down on one knee in front of Hermione, "just picturing Hogwarts ten years from now over run with more Weasley's, I'd pay money to see your face at the Sorting Ceremony."  
  
Severus smirked, "You are a little more warped than I ever gave you credit for."  
  
Harry just smiled up at his professor and turned once again to look at his two best friends. Hermione was nodding enthusiastically and Ron was grinning from ear to ear.   
  
Severus followed Harry's gaze across the lake to witness Miss. Granger's acceptance and Snape sighed very loudly.  
  
"I now know it's not paranoia, Weasley's do exist to torment my life."  
  
Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes, "I'm just glad someone can find happiness in the midst of so much darkness. They deserve to be happy...we all deserve to be happy."  
  
Severus nodded, "Yes," he said in an almost whisper, "you do." He then turned to leave. Harry watched him go for a moment before speaking.   
  
"Professor!"  
  
Snape turned, looking oddly serene, "Yes?"  
  
"You deserve to be happy too."  
  
"Art school, think about it!" was Snapes last comment before turning around and walking back toward the castle. Harry watched him for a moment before turning his focus back to his best friends one more time. Ron gave Harry a thumbs up and he returned it with a grin.  
  
In the last of the fading sunlight Harry sat, back propped against a tree and sketched. It was a picture of two people hugging each other, a beaming, freckled face peering over the shoulder of the woman in his arms. The water of the lake shimmered and in the dissolving sunset and the man and woman began to dance, starring intently into each others eyes. Harry put the finishing touches to the page by the light of his wand, the title read, 'She said yes'.  
  
Ron and Hermione were so lost in each other they did not notice they were the focus of so much attention. Harry was not the only person to have witnessed the long awaited proposal, nor was Snape.  
  
Inside the castle Severus was making his way toward Professor McGonagal's rooms. He'd never been there and only had a vague idea of where they were. He was just about to ask the portrait of the Pink Lady for directions when Minerva appeared from behind a tapestry of a Highlander.  
  
"Severus," she said, "is there something I can do for you?" It was highly unusual to find the potions master in this part of the castle before curfew. He spent much of the time he should have been asleep hunting down wayward Gryffindors.  
  
"Yes, actually," he said very politely in a very un-snape like way.  
  
McGonagal gave him a look that hinted she did not believe him. Severus noticed this but pressed forward. He knew doing anything out of character would be construed as odd but he was determined to improve his situation in life. Besides washing his hair on a daily basis he had decided to become friends with his co-workers.  
  
"I've come to invite you to dinner tomorrow night, if you are not other wise engaged. The Headmaster will be attending, as well as Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick."  
  
McGonagal starred at him for a moment as though waiting for the punch line. Severus waited patiently for her to realize she had not entered an alternate universe. He saw in her eyes the moment she realized he was sincere, they lit up like Christmas and a smile appeared on her normally stern mouth.  
  
"It would be a pleasure Severus."  
  
"Good, good," Severus smiled, truly happy that she had excepted his invitation, "Come by around seven."  
  
Minerva nodded and Severus bowed to her, "Until tomorrow then," he said and then left her to stare in shock at the spot where he had been standing.  
  
Severus had received the same reaction from all of his colleges except for Dumbledore of course. The man wasn't thrown by anything, or so he liked people to believe. Severus enjoyed getting reactions out of people, he thrived on it in fact. 'Who knew,' he thought to himself, 'that being nice to someone could be so satisfying?' Inwardly he knew it had little or nothing to do with Minerva's shock at being asked to dinner, and had everything to do with the fact that she was happy to have been invited.  
  
Snape spent the remaining hours of the evening going through cookbooks planning his menu. To Severus cooking was an art form, as demanding and as intricate as creating potions and yet as free and as beautiful as creating a work of art. He loved to cook, that was the simple explanation anyway.  
  
When Harry returned to the common room he wasn't expecting to see his two best friends but there they were, sitting by the fire talking in low tones.   
  
"Harry!" Hermione jumped up and ran toward him, closely followed by Ron.  
  
"I wasn't expecting to see you two tonight," Harry grinned at them.   
  
Hermione seemed unable to stand still, she was hopping in one spot, her eyes bright with happiness.  
  
"Ron asked me to marry him, and I said yes!"  
  
He hugged her tight, "Congratulations 'Mione, took him long enough."  
  
Ron, who had been smiling at his two best friends was now smiling even broader.  
  
"You'll be my best man right Harry?" Ron asked as he slapped him on the back.  
  
"Name the date and I'll be there," Harry grinned.  
  
The next evening found Dumbledore, McGonagal, Flitwick and Sprout sipping coffee (cocoa for Dumbledore) and all seated comfortably in front of a roaring fire in Snapes chambers.  
  
Minerva was looking around with interest, "Severus, I had no idea you were so interested in art."  
  
Severus took a sip of his coffee, "I've been collecting since I was seventeen actually," he nodded toward the mantel where a small wooden carving of a wood nymph sat, "that was my first acquisition."  
  
Minerva stood to examine it better, "It's remarkable Severus, it seems to be winking at me." Severus chuckled, "It is." He could have sworn Minerva blushed.  
  
She continued down the mantel examining a large black onyx sphere, a miniature replica of Stonehenge carved out of tigers eye, and finally a large white flowing sculpture that made her stop and stare, "This looks very familiar."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "I have a piece by the same artist in my office."  
  
No one noticed Severus sinking into his chair.  
  
"Really?" said Minerva, attention completely lost on the sculpture which seemed to be moving but in all actuality was completely still, "What is it called?" She looked over at Severus for an answer, he simply starred into his coffee cup.  
  
"It is called, 'Phonix in flight'," said Dumbledore with a meaningful look at his Potions Master.  
  
"It's remarkable," said Minerva, now touching the cold marble.  
  
"I agree," said Dumbledore, "the sculptor has an eye for movement, to this day I have not been able to convince myself that it has not been enchanted."  
  
"This was done by a muggle artist then?" McGonagal asked as she continued to enjoy the piece.   
  
"Oh no, a wizard," Dumbledore said, winking at Severus.  
  
"Remarkable," she said, turning back to the sculpture, "I should like to see more of his work."  
  
Severus was starring into the fire still holding his coffee cup like his life depended on it.  
  
Flitwick and Sprout had moved from their places and were examining more of Severus' vast collection. It was when Flitwick levitated himself up high enough to examine two pencil sketches high on an mostly empty wall that Severus snapped out of his stupor.   
  
"Now, these are quite good," squeaked Filius, "what can you tell me about them Severus, they both appear to be sketches of you."  
  
All the teachers except for Severus moved toward the sketches.  
  
Sprout turned to McGonagal, "Can you feel that?" she asked in all seriousness.  
  
Minerva nodded but no other words were spoken, instead all four teachers turned to look at Snape.  
  
"One of our current seventh years," said Severus, trying to seem casual, "very talented, thinking of art school after graduation."  
  
He could see Filius about ready to ask who the student was, Severus had no desire to tell them, not only because Harry wouldn't have wanted him to but because it was somehow personal. He'd never been so happy to feel the mark on his left arm burn as it did that very moment.  
  
Dumbledore noticed Severus grab his arm and proceeded to usher the teachers toward the door, "Thank you for dinner Severus, it was delightful, have a good evening." He then pushed the three protesting teachers out the door.  
  
"That was very rude Albus," said McGonagal sternly.  
  
"I believe Severus had places to be Minerva," he looked at her pointedly, and she nodded her head in understanding.   
  
Professors Sprout and Flitwick were already making their way up the corridor so Minerva turned to the Headmaster, "He who must not be named has called I take it?" Dumbledore nodded.   
  
Minerva pressed her lips into a thin line of concern.   
  
"He will be fine, he always is," Albus said, trying to comfort her.   
  
McGonagal nodded and then changed the subject, "So, Albus, who is this amazing sculptor and where can I find him?"   
  
Albus' eyes twinkled, "Well, durring the school year you can find him tormenting Gryffindors in his potions classroom," his eyes were now twinkling over time.  
  
"Severus?" Minerva asked in shock.  
  
"Our one and only."   
  
Not ten minutes later Severus was standing in a small chamber carved out of solid rock. There were no windows and the room was lit with only one solitary candle. In the center of the room sat Voldemort, looking all but royal on a throne carved out of the same stone the walls had been carved out of.  
  
"Hello Severus," said Voldemort, looking far to happy for Snape's nerves.  
  
"My Lord," Severus bowed, "how may I serve you?"  
  
TBC...  
  
Please review. 


	6. A Revelation

A/N: Big huge thanks to t.a.g.0 for her fine betaing efforts. I'm hopeless.   
  
Something of His Own  
  
By Moxy  
  
Chapter 6 A Revelation  
  
He was sitting in the dark sketching away without any thought to his surroundings. He was so lost in what he was doing he didn't notice that his bum had gone numb from the cold and the hard stone floor. He was so absorbed in his scribbling that he didn't notice the Astronomy Tower door open, nor did his see a tallish, blond Slytherin stalk in angrily. He didn't notice, that is, until said Slytherin began mumbling obscenities under his breath.   
  
Harry sat perfectly still and held his breath, hoping that the visitor would not notice he was there. He really didn't want to be caught out after curfew; he didn't want to spend his last week at Hogwarts in detention.   
  
"Can't believe it!" Malfoy was muttering under his breath, obviously very angry. "What could she see in him?"   
  
Harry was very curious to know what Malfoy was rambling on about; had a girl dumped him? Well, thought Harry, 'Sometimes good things did happen to bad people'.  
  
"Why would she want him?" Malfoy muttered again as he slammed his fist into the windowsill in anger.   
  
'Now that was brilliant,' thought Harry, as he watched Malfoy clutch his fist and jump around in pain, trying not to yell out.   
  
"All Weasley's damn fault," he finally muttered. "Can't believe she said yes."   
  
'Ah ha!' thought Harry. This little show was about Hermione. Harry grinned broadly into the darkness. 'Well whata-ya-know, Malfoy's got some taste after all.'  
  
Malfoy had stopped talking to himself and was now leaning against the wall staring off into space. Was he crying? 'Oh my word! He's crying!' If Harry wasn't such a nice guy he would have burst into hysterical laughter and sold the information in the Slytherin common room. Was there such a thing as wizard ebay?  
  
It was when Draco slid down the wall and landed in a sobbing heap on the cold flagstone floor that Harry felt concern. He didn't like Malfoy, he had never liked Malfoy, but it wasn't Harry's nature to walk away and let anyone hurt, no matter if he deserved it or not.   
  
Harry shifted his weight, finally realizing that his rear end was numb with cold. The movement was enough to get Draco's attention.   
  
"Who's there?!" Malfoy asked nervously.  
  
"Just about the last person you'd want it to be," said Harry truthfully, with a hint of laughter in his voice.   
  
"Potter?" Harry could see the blond peering around in the darkness.   
  
Harry lifted himself to his feet and stepped into a shaft of moonlight entering the tower through a high window, effectivly illuminating his face.  
  
Malfoy jumped to his feet. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I came here to be alone; you've ruined my solitude," Harry accused.   
  
"How much did you hear?" Harry had never seen Malfoy looking so anxious.  
  
Harry didn't respond, instead he walked over toward the window and peered out. "NEWTs are next week, are you prepared?"   
  
"I asked you a question," Draco hissed, clearly not that afraid.   
  
Harry turned serious eyes on his rival. "Do you really want a truthful answer?"   
  
Draco swore... loudly.   
  
Harry turned back toward the window, hiding his smile from the other boy.  
  
"If you say anything..."   
  
"Who would I tell? Hermione wouldn't believe it if she dosed me with Veritaserum and Ron, well, let's just say I want to keep my best friend out of Azkaban."   
  
Draco was silent for a long moment. "Thanks."   
  
'Now that is a shocking turn of events,'thought Harry as he turned to look at the Slytherin. "Not that it's any of my business, Malfoy, but how long have you liked Hermione?"   
  
"You're right, it is none of your business," he answered hotly and headed toward the door.   
  
Harry smiled knowingly. "It was when she slapped you for what you did to Hagrid and Buckbeak, isn't it?"  
  
Draco stopped in his tracks and turned around to glare at him. "Mind your own business, Potter."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Fine, I was just curious. I mean, you've treated Hermione like crap since first year... it's your own fault that she doesn't like you."   
  
Draco, who had already swung back around and was heading toward the door again, stopped in his tracks. "You're right, it is my own fault, I just don't want to talk about it with 'perfect' Potter," he paused momentarily, "You do know what will happen if my father finds out about this?"   
  
"I have a clear idea Malfoy, don't worry, I don't hate you that much."  
  
Draco only nodded and then left the tower.  
  
"Some things never change, no matter how much you want them to," Harry mumbled under his breath still staring at the door that Malfoy had just walked through. Then he sighed and left the tower himself.   
  
------  
  
Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, twiddling his thumbs, and staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't looked at the ceiling in far too long; it was truly amazing what one saw when one looked up.   
  
Severus should have been back long before this, and Albus was feeling slightly nervous. What was taking him so long? It was at that moment that he heard the familiar footfalls of his friend and potions master climbing the steps to his office door.   
  
"Come in, Severus," Dumbledore called, and an instant later Snape stepped over the threshold and shut the door quietly behind him, not making eye contact.  
  
He did not look happy. Then again, until lately Albus could not remember the last time he'd seen the man smile.   
  
"Have a seat, Severus, and tell me what has you so upset." He sat, but he still did not look at the headmaster, nor did he speak. Dumbledore poured some tea into a china cup and floated it over toward the silent man. Severus looked at it for a long moment before taking it by its handle and setting it down on a nearby table.   
  
"You seem unhurt." Dumbledore didn't want to push, but there was clearly something wrong; more wrong than usual.   
  
"I am unharmed, Headmaster," Severus confirmed; and then after a moment added, "my loyalties are being tested."   
  
"Ah," said Dumbledore as he stirred a fourth cube of sugar into his tea. He was more of a cocoa man.   
  
"Voldemort has ordered me to steal something personal from Potter." Severus sighed. "It must be something of great value to him."   
  
"Did Voldemort mention what this item is going to be used for?" Dumbledore asked, concern clearly evident in his voice. There were many uses for such personal items.   
  
Severus shook his head wearily. "No, but I must deliver it to him within the next three days."   
  
------  
  
There was just a little over a week left of the term. The graduating class had already begun slacking off, and Severus was spending more time than usual patrolling the corridors for miscreants. He had left Dumbledore's office to perform his nightly rounds, but coulf not seem to focus his mind on the task. His mind was reeling with apprehension over the new task Voldemort had assigned. The only possible reason Severus could think of was to, yet again, attempt to rid the Dark Lord of Harry Potter.  
  
Severus looked at his watch; it was almost two a.m. The only students willful enough to sneak out of their common rooms at this time of morning were Potter and his followers or Draco Malfoy. He decided to cover the most common locations first: the astronomy tower, the kitchens and oddly enough, the broomstick cupboard on the second floor by the History of Magic classroom.   
  
He arrived at the Astronomy Tower, his mind still careening with thoughts of Voldemort. Severus knew the tower was empty before he even arrived at the door, but he stepped over the threshold with purpose, aiming his lit wand into the darkest recesses of the room. His instincts were correct, the room was empty, but he did recognize a very familiar looking sketchbook. Severus glowered at the notebook, and reached down to pick it up, thinking that fate was teasing him in a most appalling manner, for the moment all thought of Voldemort forgotten.   
  
He had been obsessed with getting his hands on the sketchbook again since the day he first laid eyes on it, and here it was in his grasp. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he lifted the cover of the book and saw the familiar sketch of his own hands. The same emotions that he felt the first time he laid eyes on the sketch erupted once again, only this time, with a new appreciation of the young man who drew them. It meant so much more now and he couldn't tell why.   
  
Severus flipped passed the sketches of Dumbledore and Malfoy and stared for a long moment at a set of familiar eyes: those penetratingly evil eyes that wanted him to hand Harry Potter over to him in the form of a precious object. He flipped past the knight, Miss. Granger and the cupboard under the stairs and spent another long moment looking into the Mirror of Erised before his fingers found the edge of the paper and cautiously turned the page.   
  
It was a feather. A feather laying on what was clearly a desk. Severus held the book closer to his nose trying to see the sketch more clearly, but it was still too dark to see. He could barely make out the title at the bottom center of the page: 'Wingardium Leviosa'. Well, regardless of whether he could see or not, he did not find a sketch of a feather to be thrilling in the slightest. He turned the page.   
  
It was Potter sailing through the air on his Firebolt, his Quidditch robes flying out behhind him, the wind whipping his hair back off his face. The smile on his face made Severus grin himself. It was on closer inspection that he noticed there was no scar on 'sketch Harry's' forhead. He glanced down at the title, 'Freedom'. Oddly appropriate thought Severus.   
  
Severus was just about to flip the page when a voice from behind him spoke. "Hello Professor."   
  
Said professor swung around startled. It wasn't often that he was taken so off guard, usually he was the one doing the starteling. He looked up at Harry, and noticed that he didn't look at all surprised to find Severus there.   
  
He didn't say anything, and guiltily closed the sketchbook, taking a step toward the door. "I just found it on the floor... I was looking to see who it belonged to," he lied.   
  
Harry shrugged, not believing a word but not really carring either, "If anyone was to find it, I'm glad it was you."   
  
"Why?" Severus asked the question before he even clarified the thought and was surprised with himself. He was usually in control of every aspect of himself... except when it came to Harry Potter, he suddenly realized.   
  
Harry looked perplexed at the question. "Dunno; maybe because you already know about my sketches."   
  
Snape nodded and took another step toward the door, handing the sketchbook to Harry who looked at it thoughtfully but did not take it. "What did you think, did you like them?"   
  
"They are amazing, Harry, I..." Severus trailed off, suddenly finding it hard to make eye contact with the young man.   
  
Harry looked surprised and then grinned.   
  
"You just called me Harry, Professor, shouldn't you take points off your house or something?"   
  
Severus smiled. "Maybe I should take points off Gryffindor for provoking a teacher."   
  
Harry nodded. "Twenty points at least, it'll teach me a lesson."   
  
They headed out of the tower chatting amiably until they found themselves at the portrait of the Pink Lady.  
  
"So, have you decided on art school yet?"   
  
Harry shook his head. "No. I've decided on Auror training; until Voldemort is defeated I have no business doing anything else."   
  
Severus opened his mouth to argue but Harry interupted him by jumping in to clarify. "I'm going to spend the summer at an artist colony in Italy though, and I won't stop sketching. Who knows, after the war's over maybe I'll have a chance to go to art school... if they'll take me, that is."   
  
Severus was looking at him from the corner of his eye. "I suppose that will have to do."   
  
Harry grinned. "What about you, why don't you go to art school?"   
  
Severus scoffed, and didn't say anything. It was a ludicrous idea; he'd live and die the rest of his days at Hogwarts.   
  
"You should take your own advice, Professor, you can do anything... I mean, what's stopping you?"   
  
Severus eyed him. How did his relationship with Harry go from dislike to friendly camaraderie in such a short period of time? The Severus Snape of just a week ago would never have allowed a student - any student - to talk so frankly with him. It all pointed to his new found faith in Harry he supposed. Either that or he was losing his mind.   
  
He was about to hand Harry his sketchbook when he heard the faint sound of footfalls behind him and turned around, effectively blocking Harry from view.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape said into the darkness, "shouldn't you be asleep?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Perhaps you should get on with it then?" Severus said, in full 'Snape' mode.  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Severus and Harry were both surprised at Malfoy's easy compliance, Harry of course knew a little more than Severus as to why Malfoy was wandering the castle. Was Malfoy really hurting over Hermione? Harry found it hard to believe that the Slytherin had a heart to break in the first place.  
  
"Well, off with you then," said Severus, with a shooing gesture.   
  
As soon as Malfoy was well out of ear shot, Severus turned back toward Harry with a curious expression on his face.  
  
"He has a thing for Hermione," said Harry answering Severus' unasked question, just before he turned and spoke the password to the Pink Lady.  
  
"Really," said Snape thoughtfully, "Draco's got some taste after all." To himself he was thinking of all the complications that could possibly be added to Malfoy's life, that and the fact that perhaps the boy wasn't such a lost cause. He'd have to speak with Dumbledore soon.  
  
Harry knew exactly what his professor was thinking, he'd had a similar thought after all. He did find it interesting that Snape had such a high regard for Hermione, everyone knew he went out of his way to 'put her in her place'.   
  
"Good night professor," said Harry as he disappeared through the portrait hole.  
  
Severus was half way back to the dungeons, all thoughts of nightly rounds forgotten, before he realized he was still holding Harry's sketchbook.  
  
TBC... 


	7. The Clepto

Disclaimer: Not mine.   
  
A/N: Well, here ya go. I wrote this all in one go and just barely finished. I need a nap! Sorry it took so long to update... I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm having a hard time being inspired with this story. Can someone tell me where I can purchase a muse wholesale? Let me know what you think.  
  
Something Of His Own  
  
Chapter Seven The Clepto  
  
Draco Malfoy had a problem. He sat on his bed flipping through the pages of what had looked like a very innocent sketchbook, realizing that he had made a huge mistake. Not only had be stolen the book right off Snapes desk in the middle of potions (Snape was conveniently preoccupied with a smoke billowing out of Longbottoms ears) but he had stolen something that he knew the Dark Lord wanted. A personal possession of one Harry Potter.   
  
Draco was a lot of things but a fool was not one of them. He knew his short comings as well as any seventeen year old does, probably more so. He knew that he had in his possession the key to his future. The sketchbook that now sat in his lap could do one of two things, free him from a life of dark servitude to a maniac or ensure his place at the Dark Lords side.   
  
The scale he was balancing in his mind continued to tip toward a picture of himself with Hermione at his side, beautifully bedecked in precious gems. If he took the book to Voldemort he would have the power to take whomever he wanted as a bride, muggle born or pure blood, his power was assured. But the face of the bedecked lady that flashed before his eyes was emotionless, the spark that made Hermione who she was-- gone. He would only posses the shell of a woman... just like his father possessed his mother.   
  
He flung the book to the end of his bed scowling at it as though it were holding a precious bit of information. 'This is all Snapes fault.' He thought distractedly. 'If he hadn't been starring at the book like it held the answers to the universe I wouldn't have even noticed it's existence!'  
  
Draco punched his pillow in exasperation. He was caught you see, caught in feelings and motivations that he had never been taught to understand. His parents never explained what having a conscience could do to a person. They could never explain that guilt could eat a person whole, still alive and kicking, before the person actually committed the guilty act. They never explained that love could be so powerful, so heart wrenching, so all consuming, that a person in love would willingly lay down all their dreams and ambitions, sell their possessions and soul for a chance just to touch a loved one again. His parents tell him these things because they had no experience with guilt or love.   
  
Caught as he was, in a war against what he was taught to be, and what he was meant to be Draco Malfoy, for the first time in his life, thought of another person before himself. He thought of Hermione Granger, the woman he loved. Making the choice he grabbed the notebook and shoved it into his night stand drawer.   
  
________________________________________  
  
Severus was frantic, all though know one would have been able to see it by looking at him. After a sleepless night of trying to decide what to do with Potter's sketchbook he took it to his first class of the day, Advanced Potions, to return it to it's owner where it promptly disappeared. He knew it was one of his Slytherin's but he could say which one. Most of them had sticky fingers, and with the way he knew he had been staring at it, Severus was positive he had drawn a lot of attention to it.   
  
"Damn!" He bellowed at the cold fireplace. "Damn! Damn! Damn!" He then kicked a nearby marble statue of Salazar Slytherin and proceeded to jump around on his uninjured foot letting loose more explisatives.   
  
He couldn't help himself. If one of his 'loyal' Slytherin's realized who the owner of the sketchbook was, he or she would surly deliver it into the Dark Lord's hands. Whatever purpose the evil bastard had for the book Severus did not know, but it didn't really matter. That sketchbook was important to Potter, and well, Harry Potter was at the moment, the most important thing to Severus Snape.  
  
It was well past midnight, and who ever 'borrowed' the sketchbook would have already sent it to Voldemort. Severus collapsed on him bed and starred up at the canopy.  
  
"I should tell Dumbledore. I really don't want to tell Dumbledore. But I really should tell Dumbledore." Severus mumbled into the darkness.  
  
"Tell me what Severus?"  
  
Severus jumped about a foot in the air before landing in a dueling stance, wand brandished and aimed between the sparkling blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"A little jumpy tonight aren't you Severus?" Albus was starring at the tip of Severus' wand, his eyes crossed.  
  
"Albus!" Severus bellowed as he lowered his wand. "One of these times you are going to loose an important part of your anatomy before I realize who I've hexed!"  
  
Dumbledore chuckled and waved off the statement, "Severus, I have all the faith in the world that you will not remove any part of my anatomy without my permission."  
  
"I wouldn't count on that. It's becoming more and more tempting."   
  
Again Dumbledore chuckled. "Now, what is it that you need to tell me?"  
  
Severus sighed as he escorted the Headmaster out of his bed chamber and into his study where they both took seats in front of the fire. The tea set recognized the visitor and automatically stocked itself with pastries and hot cocoa then began serving itself.  
  
"I came into possession of a personal object of Mr. Potter's last evening. It was quite by accident of course." Severus waved away the cup of hot cocoa the tea service was attempting to serve him. "I took it to class with me this morning to return it to Potter but it was gone from my desk when the class ended."  
  
Albus looked concerned, "And was this object something of great value to Harry?"  
  
Severus nodded as he excepted the cup of tea now being offered by the tea service. "Yes, it was quite possibly the most important item Mr. Potter posses."  
  
One bushy gray eyebrow lifted questioningly, "And may I ask what this possession was?"  
  
"I don't think that's really important Albus. The fact of the matter is that one of my Slytherin's, I'm sure it was a Slytherin, stole it off of my desk, right from under my nose. For all I know it is on its way to Voldemort, via owl post, this very moment."  
  
"I think it is best we inform Harry of this." Dumbledore stood.  
  
"Must we tell him? He'll only be worried, I think he has enough to worry about with NEWTs and..."  
  
"If there is one thing that I have learned about Harry Potter over the years, it is that keeping information from him only causes more problems."  
  
Severus relented and Dumbledore called Professor McGonagal and asked her to send Harry down to Severus' rooms.  
  
"Albus, it's after 3am!" Minerva argued, "Can't this wait until tomorrow?"  
  
"No Minerva, it cannot, please send Harry down."  
  
___________________________________________________________  
  
Harry wasn't asleep, he was sitting in the Gryffindor common room starring blankly at the fire when the portrait opened and Professor McGonagal entered.  
  
"Potter." She said, only a little surprised to see him awake. "The Headmaster would like to see you in Professor Snapes chambers right away."  
  
If she was expecting Harry to be surprised by the request she was terribly disappointed.   
  
He made his way through the corridors, feeling oddly naked without his invisibility cloak to hide him. He had a lot on him mind, mainly Malfoy.  
  
'Why did he steal my notebook off Snapes desk?' It was a question he'd been asking himself all day long. It seemed like a stupid thing to take. It was just a notebook, a muggle notebook no less. 'Maybe he just likes stealing things, in first year when Ron and I talked to him in the Slytherin common room he stole that present off the table. Maybe he just likes to steal things.' Harry frowned deeply at the thought. Why would Malfoy steal, he had everything.  
  
Before he realized it Harry had arrived at Snapes door and was using the door knocker to announce his arrival. It was an interesting door knocker, oddly out of place on the simple oak door of a dungeon hallway. Harry guessed it was brass, the knocker itself was in the shape of wreath of holly which hung from the beak of a dove. It was really rather beautiful and very unSnape like. Then again, Harry was quickly learning that what he believed was 'Snape like' was a very limited vision of the man. What had he learned about him so far? Sculpture was his first love, he followed the expectations of his father into Voldemorts ranks, he wanted to run away to Italy as a youth, and oddly, Harry realized, Snape still wanted to run away to Italy.   
  
The door opened to a smiling, if concerned looking Dumbledore. "Come in Harry, there is something that Severus and I would like to discuss with you."  
  
Harry followed Dumbledore into Snapes office and took a seat across from them. The tea service promptly offered up a collection of pastries and three cups, one containing hot cocoa, one tea and one coffee. Harry took the tea and an eclair and sat back in the comfy chair.  
  
"Mr. Potter," said Snape, looking very guilty. "Your notebook..."  
  
Harry spoke through a mouthful of eclair, "It's all right professor, I know it was stolen."  
  
Both men looked surprised. "Did you see who took it?"  
  
A very brief internal struggle went on with in Harry. Should he tell who took the notebook? What would happen to Malfoy?  
  
"Yes, I saw who took it, but it doesn't really matter."  
  
Snape looked like he begged to differ and was about to speak but Dumbledore spoke first.  
  
"Harry, there is something we have not told you." The two professors glanced at each other. "Voldemort has ordered Severus to 'obtain' something of great value to you. Whomever took your sketchbook could quite easily deliver it to him."  
  
Harry looked thoughtful as he licked his fingers, "If I'm remembering correctly there are several spells that need such a possession."  
  
Both men nodded.  
  
"Well, I'm not worried." He took a sip of tea.  
  
"Why ever not?" Severus demanded. "Whatever the Dark Lord is planning could kill you Harry, you must take this seriously!"  
  
Severus didn't notice that he'd called Potter by his first name, but Harry and Dumbledore did and smiled slightly.  
  
"I would like my sketchbook back but I'm not concerned for my life. If I remember correctly the object must be of great value to the owner."  
  
Both men nodded again, clearly interested in where this was going.  
  
"Well, if he wanted something of great value to me he should have requested Ron or Hermione or any of the Weasley's. It's just a sketchbook, it's not a life, and therefore not precious to me."  
  
Dumbledore smiled and Severus looked dumbstruck.  
  
"Can I go now?"   
  
____________________________________________________________  
  
The next morning found Severus Snape prowling the Slytherin common room. All of his Advanced Potions students who were in his house stood in formation in front of him.  
  
"Now, I don't think I need to explain to you why I am here."  
  
It was five o'clock in the morning and the ranks were looking a tad pale.  
  
"Something was taken from my desk yesterday morning, something very important to me and to the Dark Lord." Severus paced up and down the line of students, hands firmly clasped behind his back. "Said object will be returned to me by noon today, or each and every one of you will be serving detention until you graduate!" He stopped, standing directly in front of Draco Malfoy. "After you are gone from this school the rules of behavior will change. I will no longer be limited by my status as your teacher." He glared menacingly and the students cringed in unison.  
  
"I trust I have made myself clear."   
  
"Yes sir!" The formation yelled in response.  
  
"Good. By noon ladies and gentlemen, or you will know what it is like to be a Gryffindor!" He then left the common room with his usual swish of cloak.  
  
Several of the cowering students slumped into nearby chairs while the rest wandered back to their beds to have nightmares about demented bats.  
  
"That was a little intense." was Blaise Zabini's understatement. "His arse must really be on the line." Several heads nodded.  
  
Pansy Parkinson looked a tad green. "Do you really think he'll come after us once we graduate?"  
  
Everyone stared at her like she'd lost her mind.  
  
"Right, stupid question."  
  
Draco was not listening to the conversation. His normally dormant conscience was rearing its ugly head once again. He'd planned on leaving the sketchbook in front of Snapes door before he left his chambers, but now...   
  
Snape had said that the sketchbook was important to the Dark Lord, which meant that Snape was planning on delivering it to him. This also meant that Draco's assumptions were correct, the sketchbook was important, it would assure him a place at Voldemort's right hand. If he returned the sketchbook to Snape it would go to Voldemort and Snape would get the glory, but Draco would get the glory if he gave the book to the Dark Lord.   
  
The possibilities turned in his mind. He had a whole beautiful scenario running through his mind, and had almost decided to hand the sketchbook over himself, when Hermione's face popped up in the midst of his imaginings. The misty watercolor glory faded away and reality set in. He'd give the sketchbook back to Potter. A grin spread across his face at the thought. He'd give the sketchbook back to Potter and tell him exactly who was giving it back. The information was sure to get back to Hermione.  
  
"You going back to bed then?" Pansy asked, as Draco made to leave the common room.  
  
"Oh, yeah. 'Night."  
  
____________________________________________________________  
  
Potter:  
  
I found this sketchbook on Snapes desk. He was planning on giving it to You-Know-Who. Please take better care of your possessions in the future. We wouldn't want the great Harry Potter to find himself floating around Hogwarts with the resident ghosts.  
  
Malfoy  
  
______________________________________________________________  
  
Harry read and reread the note, a grin on his face.   
  
"What are you reading Harry?"   
  
He looked up to see his bushy headed friend looking at him thoughtfully.  
  
"Oh, I lost my sketchbook and Malfoy owled it back to me."  
  
Hermione looked curious. "Why would he do that?"  
  
Harry shrugged, "Snape had it and Malfoy thought he would give it to Voldemort so he sent it to me."  
  
"But that doesn't make any sense. Malfoy is a follower of Voldemort, isn't he?"  
  
Harry thought about this question for a long moment before coming to a rather shocking answer. "Nah, Malfoy is out for himself. If giving this sketchbook to him would have been lucrative he would have done it."  
  
"But sending it back to you couldn't have been any more of a reward. I mean, what could he gain from it?"  
  
'I'd tell you about it and you'd think that maybe Malfoy wasn't such a git after all.'  
  
"I'm sure there's a reason."  
  
Hermione took a seat next to Harry. "If not for anything more than the sheer amount of blackmail he could get out of that sketchbook."  
  
"What?"  
  
Hermione looked at him like he had lost all capacity for rational thought. "The sketches, I mean it's pretty clear that you have some feelings for Snape. Malfoy could have sent those to the Daily Prophet."  
  
Harry starred at her dumbstruck.  
  
Hermione completely misunderstood his silence, "I can't believe you didn't think of it yourself, this is Malfoy Harry."  
  
Harry shook his head, trying very hard to clear the loud fuzzing noises that seemed to be repeating Hermione's words over and over again in his head, 'it's pretty clear that you have feelings for Snape.'  
  
'Excuse me!' His brain yelled. "Herm, I don't 'like' Snape, if that's what you're saying. I mean, I like him in that he's been very supportive of my art, he's also helped me come to grips with the expectations placed upon me. But that's all. He's like a... a mentor." It took him a moment to find the right word to describe their relationship.  
  
She didn't look like she believed him but didn't say anything more. Harry quickly left the tower before the conversation could get anymore awkward.   
  
___________________________________________________________________  
  
"Come in!" Severus yelled from his potions cupboard hidden conveniently behind a book case sagging with old dusty tomes.   
  
Harry entered and sat, waiting for the potion masters appearance. He didn't have to wait long. Only a moment later Severus appeared, covered in cobwebs and looking exhausted.  
  
"Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?"  
  
Harry held up his sketchbook, "Just thought I'd let you know that it has been returned."  
  
Severus sighed with relief. "I don't suppose you will tell me who returned it."  
  
"The same person who took it, Draco Malfoy. He sent a note along with it. Said he'd saved it from you... said you were going to give it to Voldimort."  
  
Severus arched an eyebrow at him.  
  
"I think the ferret might not be all that bad."  
  
"Oh you think so?"  
  
Harry nodded, "Even if his motivation had more to do with bushy haired know-it-all's than saving me from you. He chose Hermione over Voldie, I think that says something."  
  
"Hmm." Was Severus' only response.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
What should happen next? I need input... I am clay... you are the sculptors. Oh, and review please. 


	8. A Bend In The Road

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world are not mine. I simply enjoying playing with them.  
  
A/N: Thank you to all of you who have loaned me their muses. They all ganged up on me, and what-a-ya know, a light has appeared at the end of the tunnel. Thanks muchly!   
  
NOTE: This WILL NOT be a slash piece. I hope many of you are not disappointed and will continue to read.  
  
Something Of His Own  
  
By Moxy  
  
Chapter Eight   
  
A Bend In The Road  
  
Severus was sitting by the lake, looking for all the world like a skyscraper would look sticking up through the canopy of a rain forest... totally out of place. It was a clear spring day with just a touch of winter cold on the new air. His thoughts were not as carefree as the weather. He was thinking of Voldemort and the fact that three days had come and gone and Severus had not delivered a personal object of Harry Potter's. It was too late, if he showed up now, even with Potter's head on a platter, Severus was a dead man. Voldeomort did not forgive.  
  
Discussing the situation with Albus had been a study in guilt. The Order's only spy was now tied to Hogwarts. If Severus ever left the grounds again, the chances of him returning to the school alive were almost nil.   
  
He sighed into the spring chill. "Potter..."   
  
It was forever Potter. Potter who broke down every barrier, every preconceived notion, every fear... Potter. Severus' life was ruined and he didn't care because Potter was still alive and as long as he was alive the world he knew could go on turning because there was always a chance.   
  
'Chance for what?'   
  
He knew in his heart that it was unfair to lay so much responsibility on the shoulders of a seventeen year old boy... er... young man. It wasn't fair to put all of his hopes for a normal future onto the not quite full grown shoulders of a 'young man' who's dreams revolved around a sketchbook. He deserved to have the life he wanted, he deserved to have everything Severus gave up.  
  
Severus had made Harry promise to keep everything of value under heavy protective wards. Voldemort would not give up so easily, he would send other's to do the work Severus had failed at.   
  
The Advanced Potions seventh years were currently in detention totally unmonitored. Severus grinned to himself. They were so afraid of his retribution after graduation that they wouldn't dare put a toe out of line. Severus knew exactly how sick it was to enjoy the fear he instilled in children, but he couldn't quite feel guilty about it.  
  
***  
  
At that same moment Draco Malfoy was sitting in detention wishing he would have turned Potter over to Voldemort himself.   
  
If he had to listen to Pansy whine for another minute he'd Avada himself!  
  
"Shut it!" He demanded as he banged his potions text against the table, catching everyone's attention.  
  
Pansy jumped in surprise, and her bottom lip trembled.  
  
"Don't even think about it Parkinson! If one single solitary tear tumbles down your cheek you'll wish Snape was here to save your pathetic life."  
  
The rest of the Slytherin's smirked and laughed. Something's never change no matter how much time goes by. Malfoy and Parkinson's antics were one of those things.  
  
Pansy snuffled and turned back to her reading, studiously ignoring Draco. He sighed with relief and let his thoughts wander to Hermione.  
  
She'd been looking at him rather strangely over the last couple of days. Perhaps it should have bothered him that she was looking so suspicious but it didn't. She was looking at him and that was enough to keep him awake for hours at night, imagining a future with her. Somehow they always ended up at a foreign university disguised as muggles so that his father couldn't find them, drinking ungodly amounts of coffee as they debated the most recent advances in something or other.  
  
It must be said, that while Draco looked at Hermione with all the lust of a teenager high on hormones, he saw oh so much more than what he could picture under her robes. He saw an intellectual equal, a woman who had everything going for her. He couldn't understand her attraction to Weasley. What did they talk about? Draco could hardly imagine her engrossed in heated discussions over Quiditch.   
  
Draco was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice he was writing Hermione's name over and over again on his parchment. Unfortunately Pansy did.  
  
She started laughing which brought Draco out of his reverie.  
  
"Will you shut it Parkinson!" He demanded.  
  
She laughed even harder staring openly at the parchment in front of him.  
  
"GRANGER!"She bellowed with all the refinement of a rhionosoris. "You are in love with the mudblood!"  
  
Draco looked down at the paper in front of him and paled. There, surrounded by hearts and stars, was written:  
  
Draco loves Hermione.  
  
He could have crawled into a hole and covered himself over.  
  
Everyone was staring at him now, and know one but Pansy was laughing. He was so dead. He'd never live this down. His father would kill him.  
  
Pulling up his best 'I'm a Malfoy and I'm so much better than you' expression he turned toward her and said, "Better a mudblood than you".  
  
He didn't need to add anything to that comment, being compared to a mudblood was enough of an insult.  
  
"How dare you!" She was on her feet yelling down at him, spit flying out of her mouth and splattering in his face.  
  
"Wait until you're father finds out! Wait until I tell him!"   
  
Draco waved a hand at her as though the threat wasn't' worth his notice while inside his guts were wrenching in knots. "Go ahead, tell him. While you're at it tell him I have no intention of ever marrying you, no matter how much your family is willing to pay to get rid of you."  
  
The Slytherin's laughed at the last comment but Draco knew he was digging his own grave. 'Oh well, if I'm going down I might as well go out with a bang.'  
  
He stood up and headed toward the door while Pansy continued to yell at him. Just before he got to the door he turned around and looked her straight in the eye.   
  
"Since you're so intent on getting me killed Pansy, why don't you do me a favor and inform my father that I have no intention of ever becoming a Death Eater, I bow to know one." He then turned around and left the classroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.  
  
He headed straight toward Dumbledore's office, blood pounding in his ears and heart racing, hoping against hope that his dream of running away to a foreign university would come true. He had no idea that back in the classroom eight Slytherin's were whispering amongst themselves, Pansy Parkinson unconscious on the cold stone floor.  
  
***  
  
Harry was in the Room of Requirement bent over a canvas as he listened to the birds singing through out the Tuscan country side. He loved this room and spent almost every waking moment there since NEWTs were over, usually lost somewhere between a picture in his head and the medium he was using to express it.   
  
The room was cluttered with his experiments. It looked like the room was being used for art storage instead of a studio.   
  
His current project had turned into an obsession after he had read a book called, 'Magical Mediums: Using Your Wand as an Art Tool', which he had found in the stacks in the far corner of the studio.  
  
It was a very interesting and creative process that opened up entirely new realms of expression for Harry. It also required a kind of emotional and creative control that took a lot of practice. It was after a few days of working on the control necessary that he realized this sort of practice would help in almost every aspect of magic. He knew it was true when learning new spells came easier.   
  
There was a palate sitting on the table next to the canvas Harry was focusing on. His wand, hovering without aid of his hand, only centimeters above it. It was moving over the surface as though it were dancing, leaving behind it the imaginings of Harry's conscious and subconscious mind. The wand glowed with a sunset of colors, leaving in its wake a vision, only expressed until now, in Harry's imagination.  
  
His eyes were closed in concentration. Not only did he have to imagine the end result but he had to imagine it in layers, see the outcome of the work and feel exactly what he wanted the painting to portray. While the picture he saw behind his closed eyelids was what he aimed for, his subconscious had the final input. Until he opened his eyes he would not know what the end result would be.  
  
With one last effort Harry focused all his power on the canvas before him. He did not see the shower of sparkles that rained down on the painting, nor did he see the colors shutter and whirl, perfecting itself. He open his eyes and gasped, a wide smile appearing on his lips.  
  
***  
  
Hermione couldn't see for the tears clouding her vision. She was racing aimlessly through the halls with no destination in mind. It wasn't until she ran head long into a very solid object that she realized what she was doing.  
  
"Ooof." Was Draco's initial response to having the air knocked out of him. He'd been about to make a scathing comment when he realized who had walked into him. His heart began to pound in his chest and his breathing became heavy but it didn't compare to how he felt when he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks.  
  
"Hermione," he said in a gentle voice, "are you all right?" Draco didn't realize he was being, well, so compassionate, and Hermione didn't' realize it was Draco because he was being so compassionate.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry." She rushed to apologize. "I didn't mean to walk into you."  
  
Draco waved it off, and then searched his pockets for a handkerchief. He found it and handed it to her.  
  
"Thank you." She sniffled, and fresh tears ran down her face.  
  
Draco directed her toward a bench that was recessed into the stone wall, partially hidden by two suits of armor, one on each side.   
  
"What's wrong?" He was holding her hand and patting it gently.  
  
She whipped her eyes and cleared her throat before looking up into the compassionate expression of Draco Malfoy. Her words froze half way to her mouth, her brain unable to process the odd sight of Malfoy actually looking like he felt sorry for her. On top of that he was holding her hand and patting it soothingly.  
  
"Malfoy?" She asked, unable to believe her own eyes.  
  
He sighed and put her hand down on her lap.  
  
"Draco." He corrected as he looked away.  
  
"Ok." Hermione said in a confused tone that would have been funny if his heart wasn't currently breaking with realization. He didn't deserve her. It was the first time in his life that he felt like that.   
  
"I owe you an apology." He said softly, not out of hesitation but out of honest remorse.  
  
She had no idea what to say so she just sat and waited for him to continue.  
  
"I've been awful to you and I was wrong. I am sorry I called you a mudblood and for all the other things I've ever done to you."  
  
Her jaw dropped.   
  
Draco looked up and this time he could smile at her expression.  
  
"Why?" It was the only thing she could think of to say.  
  
He shook his head and began to walk away before he said, "You really don't want to know."  
  
She watched him go, for a moment completely forgetting why she had been crying. As soon as he was out of sight the familiar heart ache welled up again and she sighed. Her tears were gone, she had no more to spend. She searched through her pocket and pulled out the Marauders Map. She needed to find Harry.  
  
***  
  
"What can I do for you Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked from behind his desk.  
  
Draco shifted from one foot to the other, unable to make eye contact with the Headmaster.  
  
Dumbledore for his part, knew exactly why Draco was in his office, but the young Malfoy had to be brave enough to ask for what he wanted. Dumbledore could offer him sanctuary but in the end it was Draco's will that would keep him alive and safe.  
  
"I can't go home again... I don't want to..." He trailed off, unable to finish one train of thought before another popped up.  
  
"Why can't you go home?" Dumbledore asked. He hadn't offered Draco a seat, he knew better than to do so. Pacing was essential in times like this.  
  
"My father will kill me when he finds out."  
  
An eyebrow arched, for effect only since he already knew the whole story. He had to keep up some illusions after all.   
  
"Does this have something to do with you're lack of interest in following Voldemort?" He asked.  
  
Draco nodded and then began pacing. If he was going to come clean, he was going to tell everything he had to tell.  
  
"Professor Snape had a sketchbook of Potters. I took it off his desk and returned it to Potter. At first I considered giving it to the Dark Lord myself but then I reconsidered. I've thought a lot about it. At first I chose not to do it because of the way I feel about someone who would disapprove."   
  
He took a breath but didn't look up at Dumbledore. The man knew what went on in Hogwarts but he couldn't know what went on in Draco's heart. He would have to tell him.  
  
"You see, I am in love with someone and she's a muggle born."   
  
Dumbledore nodded knowingly but Draco didn't see it.  
  
"But I thought about it a lot. Did I really want to follow the Dark Lord, and I realized that the only person I want to follow is myself."  
  
He looked up and found the Headmaster smiling at him.  
  
"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that."  
  
"I have dreams for myself." Draco continued, the lure of purging every thought and feeling he was never able to share was to much of a temptation. "I want to do so many things. I don't want to be a clone of my father." He paused, looking thoughtful. "I don't want to hide what I am and what I think and like and do because my father will disapprove!"  
  
Dumbledore's grin broadened. "Lemon drop?"   
  
Draco stepped forward and took one with enthusiasm. "Have you ever seen a movie professor?"   
  
"Oh yes, I simply adore Bette Midler. I cried like a baby when I watched 'Beaches'."  
  
"Well I never have. I want to see a movie and I want to own a muggle novel that I don't have to hide like it's a dirty magazine!" Draco was getting into this. He had no idea how liberating it would feel to let his emotions out.   
  
"And jeans, I want to own a pair of jeans and get a driver license and go sky diving, without a wand!"   
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "There, there. You can do all those things. But first I want to introduce you to someone."   
  
"Who?"  
  
Dumbledore pulled a disk type object from his desk and tapped it with his wand. Out on the lawn by the lake Severus Snape heard the Headmaster call his name and he stood and made his way swiftly to his office.  
  
***  
  
Hermione was sitting on the sofa in the Room of Requirement, tears leaking down her cheeks.  
  
"...and then he said that it was over between us." Hermione hiccuped a sob.  
  
"That... that..." Harry was livid. He was so upset he had no idea what to say. He couldn't believe Ron. What was he thinking?  
  
"I'll kill him."  
  
Hermione continued to sob and Harry put an arm around her shoulders.  
  
"I ran into Malfoy on the way here. He was so nice... he told me he was sorry for everything he'd ever done to me."  
  
"Really?" Harry couldn't say he was surprised but his thoughts were to wrapped up in Ron's actions.  
  
Harry had been admiring his new painting when there was a pounding on the door. At first he thought it was Snape since he was the only other person who knew where the Room of Requirement was. When he opened the door he had been surprised to see Hermione.   
  
Under normal circumstances she would have been very curious about the room and what Harry was doing there. Today however it was pretty clear she had other things on her mind.  
  
He'd ushered her into the room and onto a nearby sofa, and didn't even have to ask her to tell him what was wrong before she blurted out the whole story.  
  
Ron wanted Hermione to forgo her education. He told her that they wouldn't last if he had to wait until she finished her education to get married. She had pointed out that they'd only have to be apart for a year since that was how long Auror training would take. He did not agree and told her that perhaps they shouldn't get married after all.  
  
Harry was stumped. Ron was an idiot.  
  
"Ron's an idiot." That was all he could think of to say. "I'll talk to him and see what's really going on."  
  
"Thank you Harry."  
  
***  
  
"You called Headmaster?" Severus asked as he stepped into the office.  
  
"Yes, thank you for coming so quickly Severus, there is someone here I would like to introduce you to."   
  
Draco Malfoy looked around the chair he was sitting in, face completely ashen.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, I believe you know Severus Snape." Dumbledore waited for Severus to sit before he continued to speak.   
  
"Severus, our young Mr. Malfoy would like asylum from his father. He does not want to become a Death Eater. What are your thoughts?"  
  
"I owe Potter twenty galleons." Severus said with a smirk. 


	9. Sweet

Disclaimer: See previous chapters they still and forever will apply.  
  
Something of His Own  
  
By Moxy  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Sweet   
  
It had only been a day since Draco had met with Dumbledore and had been introduced to Severus Snape, the spy. It was amazing how much his life had changed in so little time. It was amazing how many things he thought he knew that were either irrelevant or out and out lies.  
  
Like the prejudiced ideas that muggle born witches and wizards were less powerful than pure bloods for instance. Dumbledore had explained that there were currently experiments going on in the Ministry of Magic in regards to magicing levels. He said that there were new spells that had been developed to measure a person's magical level and that so far scientists had found no decrease of magical ability in muggle born witches and wizards. The only question they could not answer, a question that the magical community had been asking for centuries, was where muggle borns got their magic from.  
  
Of course Draco had been much more open to this information considering his feelings for one Hermione Granger. Infatuation can do that to a person, make one rethink ones previous ideas.  
  
Dumbledore and Snape had both encouraged Draco to spend some time thinking about what he really wanted to do with his life. He had a good start, a lot of little things that made up a life, but what was his ultimate goal? Where did he want to go? Who did he want to become. So far all he knew was that he didn't want to become his father and that was a pretty good start as well.   
  
Draco was sitting in the library starring blankly at the top of the desk in front of him. He'd been wondering what had happened with Pansy. She hadn't written his father. In fact when he saw her a few hours after the incident she acted like nothing had happened. Of course he didn't bring it up, he didn't want to remind her in case a miracle happened and she had forgotten his suicidal outburst during detention. But what was mostly on his mind was Hermione.  
  
He'd been throwing around the world 'love' a lot when it came to her, but he wasn't so sure that's what he felt. In the heat of the moment he had declared his affections toward her as love, but when everything cooled down he had to wonder why he was so easily able to categorize his feelings. He'd seen her almost every day for seven years. He'd competed with her for grades and recognition but he didn't really know her. He didn't know what made her so dedicated to her education or the characteristics that made her a Gryffindor instead of a Ravenclaw. He'd heard a thousand stories about her adventures with Potter and Weasley but he'd never witnessed any of them.   
  
He had never been motivated by anything as simple as friendship or heaven forbid affection. Those things were not important in his life, or hadn't been until Hermione made her appearance. He wanted to be her friend. He wanted to know her like her two best friends knew her but more than anything he wanted her to feel about him the same way he felt about her.   
  
***  
  
Severus Snape enjoyed making a scene. It was his natural flare for dramatics that had not only kept him alive up to this point but also made his life all the more entertaining.  
  
It was the day after his initial discussion with Draco Malfoy that Severus decided to pay his dues to Potter and what better way than the most dramatic way possible.  
  
Harry was at breakfast, shoving eggs into his mouth and listening attentively to Ginny's description of something or other, when the doors to the Great Hall swung open and Professor Snape stalked in.   
  
Everyone watched as he made his way over to the Gryffindor table, breath held in fascination when they noticed he was walking toward The-Boy-Who-Lived. They watched the scene like it was a car wreck, enthralled with the blood that was undoubtedly about to be spilled.  
  
"Potter," his voice low and rumbly like an earth shift.  
  
Harry looked up, mildly startled, "Sir?"  
  
Snape abruptly shoved his hand into his robe pocket and there was a collective gasp. Was the potions professor finally going to hex Harry Potter?   
  
When Severus brought out his hand, a dark leather pouch was clutched in his fingers and the hall sighed in relief or perhaps disappointment with the lack of violence.  
  
Harry stood up grinning and stuck out his hand. The hall was so quiet Harry could hear Malfoy weezing with barely supressed laughter in the distance.  
  
"Pay up Professor."  
  
Severus scowled and arched an eyebrow at him but removed a stack of gold coins from the bag and began counting them into Harry's palm. When he reached twenty he closed the leather pouch and placed it back in his pocket. Harry was rocking on the balls of his feet. Everyone could tell he was waiting for something else.  
  
Severus looked the boy straight in the eyes and said, "You're not really going to make me do this are you?"  
  
Harry grinned, "You made the bet, I just agreed to it."  
  
Severus sighed and put out his hand. It was Harry's turn to dig into his pockets. What he removed made the hall burst into loud chatter. It was his Gryffindor scarf.   
  
Harry swatted Severus hand away and said, "Lean over."  
  
"Harry," Severus whispered menacingly, "gloating does not become you."  
  
"You would have done it to me."  
  
Well, the boy did have a point. Severus leaned over and Harry slowly and deliberately wrapped his red and gold scarf around the mans neck. The Gryffindor table burst into loud hurrahs.  
  
***  
  
Ronald Weasley was not a happy man. Yesterday he had broken off his engagement to the woman he loved, hightailed it to Hogsmeade to drown his sorrows in several pints of butterbeer (he lost count after twelve) and then promptly collapsed into a sugar coma in the back room of the Three Broomsticks.  
  
He woke up several hours later to find himself being floated back to school. His best friend Harry Potter walking behind him and using language that would have made the first years ears burn.  
  
Rosemerta had obviously notified the school of his whereabouts... the traitor. He'd have to remember to avoid her establishment in the future.  
  
Currently he was hanging from the rafters in the owlry, gagged and trussed up like a Christmas goose. Several large birds of prey were using him as a combination perch and toilet as Harry sat in an open window doodling in a notebook. Occasionally he fired a comment up at Ron who had stopped yelling after Harry had placed a silencing spell on him, and was now humming 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer On The Wall' through his gag, even though he could not hear himself and swaying contentedly to the silent tune.  
  
Severus arrived at the owlry door just in time to see Harry pause in his sketching to jab his pencil in the Weasley boy's general direction. With familiar growling commentary, that Severus himself used so frequently with his students, Harry declared his best friends idiocy with scathingly brutal accuracy. Severus was practically beaming with pride. Harry might have been hopeless at potions but he was a worthy student in the 'verbal scalping' department. Severus pleasure was only heightened when the Weasley boy winced at the razor sharp barbs thrown his way.  
  
"It is moments like this that a teacher feels truly fulfilled," Severus said as he stepped over the threshold and expertly avoided a nasty pile of owl leftovers, hand over his heart in mock sincerity.  
  
Harry looked up and smiled, "Professor what are you doing here?"   
  
Severus propped himself against the wall in front of Harry, folding his arms over his chest. "I heard an unsubstantiated rumor that Harry Potter had his best friend hanging from his ankles in the owlry. I just had to come and see for myself."  
  
"You're not going to save him are you?" Harry asked accusingly.  
  
Severus lifted both his hands in a gesture of surrender, "I wouldn't dream of it."  
  
Harry let out a long sigh of contentment and turned his attention back to his sketchbook. Severus watched as the scene above his head slowly and expertly appeared in the book on Harry's lap, swift, expertly performed lines coming together to form a picture that told a story far more accurately than a hundred verbal retellings.  
  
In the mean time Ron had caught sight of the potions professor and began flailing around to get the man's attention. In his efforts he had dislodged a rather intimidating looking barn owl who promptly wacked Ron upside the head with an outstretched wing, effectively immobilizing his perch.  
  
Ron was glaring daggers at his best friend and muttering threats under his breath that sounded an awful lot like impotence hexes. Harry was very lucky his best friend was currently on mute.  
  
Severus watched Harry sketch for a moment longer before interrupting.  
  
"I actually came to inform you of why you won our bet," he was talking in a very low voice so that the Weasley boy could not hear him.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
Severus nodded, "Apparently Mr. Malfoy declared his love for Hermione Granger AND his opinion of the Dark Lord all in one go right in front of most of the seventh year Slytherin's."  
  
"You're joking!"  
  
Severus chuckled, "According to Blaise Zabini he informed Pansy Parkinson that if she was going to get him killed by informing his parents of his interest in Miss. Granger she might as well tell them that he will not follow Voldemort. I believe the direct quote was 'I bow to no one.'"  
  
Severus watched Harry's entire thought process as it appeared on his face. It was a part of innocence which he had never possessed, having enough faith in humankind to allow others a direct view into his thoughts.  
  
"What will happen to Draco when his parents find out, if they haven't already that is."  
  
"No need to worry about that. Mr. Malfoy went directly to Dumbledore for protection from Lucius. I only found out afterwards that Miss. Parkinson's memory was modified shortly after Mr. Malfoy's departure from the classroom. She has so memory of the incident." Why did he feel like he was sitting in the far corner of the teachers lounge gossiping with Minerva, Poppy and Profesor Sprout?  
  
Harry was about to ask how he knew that happened and why but Severus saw the question coming and answered it without pause.  
  
"Mr. Zabini and I have been communicating for some time. There is an organization within Slytherin house, they call themselves S.A.V. or SAVE for short. It stands for Slytherin's Against Voldemort. A vast majority of the sixth and seventh years are members of the organization. Mr. Malfoy's loyalties were always assumed to be with the Dark Lord and therefore he was never initiated. Everyone in detention with Mr. Malfoy and Miss. Parkinson were members of SAVE and promptly took control of the situation before it could get out of hand. No one will be telling the Malfoy's anything about their son's choice in women or politics."  
  
Harry took all this information with interest. "Professor, you wouldn't have anything to do with the establishment of SAVE would you?" Harry asked with a knowing look.  
  
Severus examined his cuticles with interest. "I am the Head of Slytherin House, I flatter myself to think I have any sway over my students."  
  
Harry chuckled, "You made them think it was all their own idea didn't you."  
  
"They are Slytherin's not Hufflepuffs Mr. Potter. Of course I did."  
  
Harry shook his head and laughed. "So when is Draco's initiation?"  
  
"Tonight."  
  
***  
  
The walls were closing in around him. He couldn't breath. If he had an ounce less self respect he would have been bawling like a first year. What was going on?   
  
Thirty minutes ago Draco had been sitting in an empty library starring contentedly at the empty desk in front of him (this was a popular pastime of late) when three hooded figures hit him with silencio and dragged his mute kicking a screaming self from the room. They'd thrown him into a closet and he was now hyperventilating. Draco Malfoy was claustrophobic to a very frightening degree.   
  
A few minutes later when the three senior members of SAVE opened the closet door they found Draco Malfoy laying on the cold stone floor unconscious.  
  
"Crabbe, Goyle! What in the hell did you do to Malfoy?" Blaise Zabini bellowed.  
  
"Nothing. We just put him in the closet like you said to."  
  
A taller figure pushed himself through the crowd around the closet door and leaned over the unconscious figure. "I will take him to the hospital wing," came Professor Snapes voice. "He doesn't seem to be injured. I suggest we adjourn until we find out what is wrong with Mr. Malfoy." He then lifted the young man into his arms and walked quickly toward the hospital wing.  
  
Severus had no more than laid him down on a hospital bed when Draco woke up. He was clearly panicking, his eyes wide with fear, and panting for breath. The potions master suddenly felt incredibly guilty.   
  
"Draco, calm down. Everything's okay. You're in the hospital wing."  
  
Draco's eyes darted around the room as if to confirm the information. When he realized it was true he let out a long sigh of relief. "Three people locked me in a closet."  
  
Severus nodded. "I'm afraid I had something to do with that," Draco's eyes widened in accusation, "I assure you, no one meant you harm. It was part of an initiation ceremony. We had no idea you were claustrophobic."  
  
Draco closed his eyes and leaned his head against his pillow. He didn't have the will or energy to ask what the initiation was for and soon fell into a deep sleep.  
  
***  
  
Ron was still hanging in the owlry. It occurred to him that perhaps someone should have missed him by now but no one had come looking for him. It was just about the time when he was starting to get rather hungry that the tower door opened and Hermione walked through.  
  
"Hey."   
  
Ron didn't say anything. He couldn't after all, he was still gagged. Hermione seemed to see this as an opportunity to say a few things without being interrupted.  
  
"What you said really hurt Ron. I know you didn't mean it. Maybe you were panicking, I don't know. But it really made me think and I came to a conclusion that was rather difficult for me because I do love you," she was now sitting in the same open window that Harry had been sitting in earlier.  
  
"I'm going to University. I'm going because it's my dream just like you dream of becoming an auror, and you really had no right to demand otherwise."  
  
Ron mumbled something into his gag.   
  
"I know you're sorry. Maybe one day we will get married, but for now, I think it's best that we go our separate ways," she looked up at him then, her eyes filled with sorrow, "I'll always love you," she then lowered him to the ground and left the room.  
  
Ron slowly, thoughtfully removed his gag and the ropes binding him, all thoughts of revenge gone from his mind. He'd lost Hermione and he knew it was no one's fault but his own.   
  
With a new determination he left the owlry, "I'll win her back, I'll prove to her how much I love her, how much I'm ready to marry her... no matter what I have to do."  
  
TBC... Please review.  
  
A/N: I am so overwhelmed. I received over 100 reviews for chapter 8! Maybe this is all a huge fluke?   
  
Sally-Jo: I have never seen Red Dwarf. I'm not sure where I picked up 'muchly' but it it one of my weird words I use far to often.  
  
MedNar: No weeping allowed on my story. You'll smudge it! *grin* I'm glad you like it though.  
  
Chronicles Baily: Violence is never the answer. *grin*  
  
Myr Halcyon: Loved your indepth review. In answer to your questions, some of Harry's sketches do move, perhaps I didn't describe that very well. As for the painting, well, you'll have to wait and see. My personal definition of grin: laughter in the form of a smile. Never meant to be negative in anyway... that is a scowl or a smirk (on occasion).   
  
That's all the time I have to answer review's. I'm sorry if I left anyone out. I'll do better in the future. Moxy 


	10. I Know

Disclaimer: Harry Potter nor any of the familar character characters or places in this story belong to me.   
  
A/N: Well, it looks like I have about two chapters to go and I'll be done with Something of His Own. I do have some ideas for a sequal if you're interested. Also, I thought I'd add a chapter of paintings and or sketches just for the heck of it. Thought it might be fun since you guys seem to like that part of the story the best. Any way, review and tell me your opinion.  
  
Something of His Own  
  
By Moxy  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
I Know  
  
He hadn't meant for the whole of Gryffindor House to see the sketch. Seamus was to inquisitive for his own good and had stolen it out from under Harry's nose.  
  
"It's not funny Professor!" Harry insisted as he watched Severus laugh his head off.  
  
  
  
"Ron hasn't spoken to me in days. Every time I turn a corner I find yet another copy of that damn sketch stuck to a wall or a toilet stall door!"  
  
Severus continued to snicker in a most unSnape like way. If Harry hadn't been so distraught about the whole sketch situation he would have been laughing right along with him. As it was, he couldn't find the humor in the situation at all. There were, at that very moment, countless copies of the sketch Harry made of Ron hanging from the owlry rafters, scattered pell-mell across Gryffindor Tower.  
  
With a frustrated expression on his face Harry sat and waited for Severus to laugh himself dry. It seemed like it was taking an awful long time and he was loosing his patience. He had come for serious advice but all he got was a hysterical potions master.  
  
"Are you done yet?" Harry asked seriously, arching his eyebrows in a very Snape like way.  
  
Severus, who had just begun to wind down, saw the exasperated look on Harry's face and broke into fresh gales of laughter, tears streaming down his face.  
  
This time Harry couldn't hold back and started laughing himself.  
  
It was a rather shocked Professor McGonagal who found the two men gasping for breath between loud guffaws. After a moment she smiled to herself. It had been along time since she'd seen Severus laugh, in fact, she had no memory of him ever laughing. She didn't want to disturb the moment and so waited in the door way for the them to calm down.  
  
The instant Severus saw Minerva in the doorway his laughter subsided and he sat up in his chair trying to regain some of his dignity.  
  
"What can I do for you Professor?" He asked in a professional manner, trying not to glance at Harry who was grinning broadly at him.  
  
Minerva gave him a cheeky grin and stepped into the room, "It's nice to see you so happy Severus, I hope I get to witness it more often."  
  
Severus scowled.  
  
"You will." Harry assured her with a wink in Severus direction. His scowl only deepened.  
  
"It seems I must repeat myself." he growled. "What is it I can do for you Professor?"  
  
"I came to deliver this to you," she handed him a cream colored envelope, "It arrived with my mail by accident.  
  
Severus took the envelope and a smile erupted on his face.   
  
Harry looked at him curiously and was shocked when Severus handed it to him.   
  
He starred at the envelope in his hand for a long time. It was addressed to Harry Potter in the care of Professor Severus Snape and was from the Broadmore Art Institute. He slowly opened the envelope and pulled out a formal printed letter.  
  
Dear Mr. Potter:  
  
We are pleased to inform you that your application for admittance to Broadmore Art Institute has been excepted. Your portfolio was very impressive and we look forward to meeting with you at the start of the Fall term....  
  
Harry looked up at Severus, surprise written all over his face.   
  
"Severus, what did you do?"  
  
"I gave you another option, that is all."  
  
"I told you I was going to become an Auror."  
  
"Yes, you did. You also told me you felt it was your responsibility, not necessarily something you wanted to do."  
  
McGonagal interrupted. "Broadmore? Why Mr. Potter, that is the most prestigious art school in the wizarding world." She looked at Severus, asking for answers for her unasked questions.  
  
"Mr. Potter is a very talented artist. I believe you have seen some of his work in my chambers."  
  
It took a moment but suddenly comprehension dawned on her face, "Those amazing sketches? Your new collection?"   
  
Severus nodded.  
  
"Mr. Potter, I had no idea. I have seen some of your work, and Severus is correct, you are very talented."  
  
Harry was scowling at the parchment in his hands and had hardly heard the conversation between his two professors. He was so angry he could have screamed.  
  
"How could you!" he yelled as he jumped to his feet, "How could you do this to me!"  
  
Severus looked momentarily shocked but soon regained composure. McGonagal on the other hand was highly displeased with her student's behavior and was about to reprimand him severely when Severus interrupted her.  
  
"It's all right Minerva, could you give us a moment please?" She left without another word, her anger quickly dissolving into curiosity. She shut the door behind her and Severus, still seated, leaned toward Harry in a comforting gesture.  
  
"Harry, what's wrong?"  
  
The young man was shaking, his hands gripping so tightly to the parchment that it was crumpled beneath his fingers. He looked up at Severus eyes flashing.  
  
"Tell me what's wrong, I can't help if you don't tell me."  
  
"Why did you do this?" It was an accusation flung at the potions master as though the entire idea was put into motion just to hurt Harry.  
  
"I had to give you the option Harry. I had to give you the chance."  
  
"I didn't want the option! I didn't want the chance!"  
  
"Why not?" The question was asked so quietly Harry had to strain to hear it.  
  
"Because I would have to give it up! I'd have to give it all up!" There were tears streaming down his face now. Severus suddenly understood what Harry was feeling.  
  
"You thought that if the opportunity was never given to you, you wouldn't miss it?"  
  
Harry collapsed back into his chair, his face in his hands, "Yes."  
  
Severus watched the young man for several long minutes before speaking. "It doesn't work, believe me Harry. You will always regret it, even if you have the best reasons in the world."  
  
Harry was silent, "I know."  
  
It was often thought that Severus Snape was not an emotional man, but that was very far from the truth. Severus Snape, was in fact, a very emotional man. Prone to outbursts of hate and animosity he was also a very loving individual though he repressed those feelings with amazing vigor.   
  
At times like this he did not know how to respond to his own feelings. His hard dominate side was at war with his caring affectionate side. He wanted to comfort Harry and yet his cold exterior fought against the very notion. But things had been changing for Severus Snape. He would always be a hard man, to those who did not know him well, but he had changed in recent weeks. He had excepted the part of him that wanted to love and to be loved.  
  
It only took him a moment to get to his feet and walk toward the young man that he now thought of like a son. He knelt down in front on him and wrapped his arms around him.  
  
"I'm sorry Harry. I didn't mean to hurt you." This was said rather matter of factly, as though Harry should already know this bit of information.  
  
"I know."  
  
A moment later he was being hugged back with equal force, and the boys head was resting on his shoulder. "Thank you Sev."  
  
Severus grinned, "Sev is it?"  
  
Harry nodded and snuffled into his shoulder.  
  
"You're not getting snot on my robes are you?"   
  
Harry laughed.  
  
***  
  
Blaise Zabini was not a happy man. At the moment he was sprawled on the infirmary floor, his right eye pulsing with pain. He was sure to have a black eye come morning.  
  
"What in the hell is wrong with you Malfoy!" He shouted in outrage as he poked gingerly at his face.  
  
"You locked me in a broom cupboard and left me there you piece of..."   
  
Draco was interrupted by the arrival of Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"What is going on here?" She demanded sternly.  
  
"Malfoy punched me!" Blaise declared.   
  
"He was the one who locked me in the cupboard!"  
  
"I came here to apologize Draco, we had no idea you were afraid of the dark!"   
  
Malfoy was quickly turning red with furry, "I'm not afraid of the dark!"  
  
"That is enough!" Madam Pomfrey interrupted. "Mr. Zabini, I think it would be a good idea if you went back to your common room. Now."  
  
"What about my eye?" He whined.  
  
"It looks fine to me. Now out!"  
  
Malfoy smirked and Blaise lifted himself from the floor. In three strides he had left the infirmary.   
  
Madam Pomfrey left for her office and Draco sat down on his bed just in time to see Hermione Granger walk into the room. His heart raced as he noticed that she was walking toward him.  
  
"I heard what happened, are you all right?" She asked as she sat down next to him.  
  
He waved off her obviously sincere concern, while inwardly reeling at the fact that enough had changed between them that she felt comfortable enough to visit him in the hospital wing.  
  
"I saw Zabini on the way in, looks like he stepped on a rake."  
  
  
  
Draco smiled, "Nah, he collided with my fist."  
  
Hermione nodded, a grin on her face.   
  
It did not pass Draco's notice that normally Hermione would be reprimanding him for his behavior, no matter how justified.  
  
They were silent for quite a long moment before Hermione spoke again. "I wanted to thank you for being so nice to me... that day I ran into you in the hallway."  
  
"I meant what I said, I am sorry for the way I treated you." He didn't look at her.  
  
"I know." She then leaned over and quickly kissed him on the cheek. She raced out of the room so fast she didn't see him turn beet red and tenderly touch his cheek where her lips had met his skin.  
  
***  
  
Ron had composed a sonnet of sorts and had Parvati put it on Hermione's pillow. It was pathetic he knew, but she was a sucker for poetry. He knew it was a long way from making amends but it was a beginning.  
  
***  
  
Harry was once again sequestered in the Room of Requirement, but this time he was not alone. He had pulled Severus from his marking and stood him in front of a very large block of solid marble.   
  
"Go for it Severus!" Harry encouraged.  
  
Severus stood there for a long time just starring at the piece of stone. It had been years since he'd allowed himself the pleasure of letting his mind wander free, waiting for inspiration.  
  
"What are you doing exactly?" Harry asked, about forty-five minutes after they'd entered the room.  
  
Severus turned to look at Harry, "I'm looking for the sculpture."  
  
"Huh? I thought you just picked something and sculpted it."   
  
Severus shook his head in exasperation. "No, no, no. Every piece of stone holds a piece of art within it. It is my task to remove the bits of stone to reveal that art."  
  
"Oh." Harry thought that was rather poetic thinking for his serious minded professor. "So, there's a piece of sculpture trapped in that piece of marble somewhere?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
A sudden thought of inspiration burst in Harry's brain and he went in search of the text on magical methods. Severus watched him search frantically through the bookcase at the far end of the room. After a few moments he lifted the book in triumph.  
  
"Severus! I know how to stop Voldemort."  
  
TBC... 


	11. Ron's Poem

By popular demand I snuck through Hermione's bedside table and found the  
poem  
Ron wrote for her. It's really very...er...sweet and honest. I can't help  
loving Ron despite the fact that he's a dodo head quite often. Enjoy!  
  
Hermione  
By Ronald Weasley  
Oh Hermione, what a sweetie, isn't she lovely  
She really likes to study.  
The library is her special place,  
She's read every book in every bookcase.  
That's my Hermione.  
Her hair is brown and soft to touch,  
Her eyes crinkle when she laughs too much.  
She's really bright,  
I love to fight with my Hermione.  
That's my Hermione.  
Kissing her is the best sensation,  
It makes me think I'm on vacation.  
All warm and tingly, my toes do feel,  
It's so much better than an evening meal.  
Mmmm...Hermione.  
Sometimes I'm rather closed minded,  
I say things before I think,  
But Hermione is cool, she's no fool,  
She knows I'm a bone head and don't mean it.  
That's my Hermione.  
One day she'll be a great something or other,  
And I'll be so proud, I'll tell my mother.  
She can do anything; Hermione's really keen,  
And that's one of the reason's I love her.  
My Hermione.  
  
A/N: Sorry I haven't updated everyone. I've been well a lot of  
things...busy, on vacation, but mainly unmotivated. I do promise I will  
finish the story. Never fear! Please be patient. -Moxy 


	12. Special Delivery

Something Of His Own

By Moxy

Chapter 12

Special Delivery

The road to victory was long and arduous. Hours were spent in planning. Harry spent every free moment between graduation and the graduation party (where he quite possibly imbibed too much cheer) to paint. It was the painting that would end the war and when the end came no one would look at it and think it was Harry Potter's greatest work. It was in fact, the ugliest thing anyone had ever seen. But of course, no one, not even the Dark Lord's most loyal supporters could say he was pretty.

Severus looked at the painting with an artist's eye and visibly cringed. Harry looked unrepentant about his complete perversion of the arts.

"It's not meant to be good, just effective." Harry said with an air of authority that Severus had never had the opportunity to witness before.

"The question is, how do we get it into Voldemort's hands?"

Severus tore his gaze away from the monstrosity before him, "That's not a problem, I know the perfect person."

Draco Malfoy was in the library, a place where only the bravest of souls would go the morning after the graduation party. He did not consider himself brave, nor suicidal but he did consider himself in love, and thusly sought out the object of his affection, one oblivious Hermione Granger.

She was currently reading a book on relationships. This disturbed Draco greatly, thinking perhaps she was attempting to find a way to get back together with the Weasel, but he tried to ignore it. Instead he concentrated on her hair, the column of her throat, the delicate angle at which her neck met her shoulder, and so on until he was lost in complete lustful delirium. So lost was he that he did not notice the arrival of his Head of House.

Severus watched Draco watching the Granger girl for a long moment. The poor lad had it bad. It was unfortunate for the boy that he had such obvious good taste in women. His father would never approve.

"Mr. Malfoy, could I have a word with you?"

Draco jumped in his seat, disturbed from his daydreaming.

"Sir?"

Severus sighed, "Follow me please."

Draco left the library under silent protest, casting Hermione one last look before the door shut behind him.

Harry was waiting in Severus' office, scribbling away in his sketchbook. He was drawing a picture of Padfoot, his tail wagging enthusiastically; tongue lolling out of his mouth and eyes bright with happiness. He would always miss the man, every moment of his life, but it was in moments like this where Harry imagined the words of wisdom, comfort or humor that Sirius would have offered. And it was times like this that Harry realized how little he actually knew his father's best friend. _'What would he have said if he were here?'_

He had just finished the sketch and was writing out the title when Severus arrived with Draco.

"Potter." Draco said in a rather reserved manner. Harry thought he might not be sure how to address his newly made friend… nervous perhaps.

Harry decided to put his former rivals mind to rest, "Hey-a Draco."

The smile that appeared on the blonds face was enough to answer that question. They were friends-new friends but friend's none-the-less.

Both men sat before Harry took the initiative and turned toward Draco.

"We have a plan to capture Voldemort but we need some help."

Draco looked from Harry to Severus questioningly.

"This is actually Mr. Potter's plan, but it is quite ingenious, despite the fact a Gryffindor thought of it."

Draco smiled as did Harry.

"Didn't I tell you that the sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin?"

Both Slytherin's blanched, "It'll be a cold day in Hades before I believe that Po…Harry."

Harry shrugged, "The truth hurts."

Severus shook himself out of the image of Harry in Slytherin robes and turned back to the issue at hand.

"Does your father trust you enough to except a 'gift'?"

Draco looked confused and a little worried, "He does not know that my loyalties lie elsewhere, if that's what you mean."

Harry smiled, "Excellent." He rubbed his hands together in a perfect imitation of Severus.

Severus rolled his eyes in mock annoyance and pulled Harry's painting out from behind his desk. It was now wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

"We need you to owl this to your father."

"What is it?"

"A painting," said Severus.

"A trap," said Harry

"Alright, which one is it?" Draco asked looking annoyed.

"Both." They answered at the same time.

Harry was the one to explain. "I painted this," he gestured toward the painting with one hand, "using a magical artistic technique that traps an imagined image within the canvas. Combined with your common everyday locking spell and a few powerful wards, whoever gets sucked into the painting will not be able to get out."

Draco looked slightly shocked.

Harry shook his head. "Once Voldemort touches the painting he will be sucked into the canvas, thus completing the spell. He will be unable to leave…ever."

"What if he doesn't touch it?"

Harry shrugged, "He will when he sees what it is a painting of."

Severus grimaced.

Draco was about to ask what the painting was of but was interrupted by a series of very loud squeals.

Severus rushed out the door and into his classroom where he burst out laughing. Harry and Draco followed. What they saw stopped them in their tracks and they too began to laugh.

Crabbe and Goyle had each been lashed to a table; their feet were bare, a feather tickling both their feet as they tried to wiggle out of the robes that bound them. A very loud voice echoing through the room kept repeating, "WHO'S YOUR DADDY!"

Goyle saw they had company and yelled for help. The voice got louder, "WHO'S YOUR DADDY!"

Harry was practically rolling on the floor in hysterics but managed to get out between gasps of laughter, "Say it! Say it!"

Draco turned to Harry.

"Say what?"

"Who their daddy is!"

Severus was still laughing and had collapsed into a chair.

Crabbe and Goyle looked desperately at each other for a moment before yelling out simultaneously, "LONGBOTTOM! LONGBOTTOM IS OUR DADDY!"

The feather dropped to the tabletops and the ropes disappeared as the voice got its last words in, "AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT!"

Draco was now rolling on the floor, tears pouring down his face. "I had no idea he had it in him!"

Crabbe and Goyle were panting for breath.

Harry had no idea that Neville would actually go through with his plans. He'd been planning his revenge for the last six-month's. There was a list a page long and Harry knew for a fact that Severus was number one on that list, closely followed by Draco.

Neville was walking a little taller the next time Harry saw him. In fact, he looked like a new man. In Harry's personal opinion no one had ever given Neville enough credit. He was clumsy and forgetful at times, but he was never ever stupid.

Hermione had been reading a book by that Relationship Witch, Sabrina Stevens, for the last three days. Harry really wondered if she was that desperate for advice. Ron had told him about their conversation in the owlry, after he started talking to Harry again that is.

Harry had to remind him of the conversation they had the day before Ron actually got up the nerve to ask Hermione out in their sixth year.

"You're my best friend Ron, but if you hurt 'Mione I will hang you upside down in the owlry and let the owls use you as a perch."

_Ron laughed, "If I ever hurt 'Mione I give you permission to hang me in the owlry, gag me and leave me there."_

It had seemed so unlikely at the time. It really was a pity that Harry had to keep his word and subject the owls to Ron's screaming hysterics. He was sure Ron had put them off their deliveries for a week.

Lucius Malfoy was lots of things, intelligent, articulate and educated being a few of his better qualities. He was also vain, masochistic and power hungry so when he received a shrunken parcel from his son and heir, with an attached note that read, "Father, I do believe He will be pleased," Lucius did not spare one moment in contemplation as to the contents. He simply slipped it into his robe pocket and apperated away.

A/N: I know it's not long but I'm hoping you'll forgive me since it's been over a year since I posted a chapter. I promise to finish the story and there's only a couple of chapters to go so it's getting there. Sorry if this chapter is rough, it hasn't been beta'd and I'm out of practice.


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